


Meant to Be Yours

by gray_autumn_sky



Series: Meant to Be Yours [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 221,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-S1 AU. After finding Henry homeless in New York, Regina brings him back to Storybrooke and together they break the curse. (Robin and Roland appeared in the original story, so they’ll appear in later chapters, offering friendship and support to Henry and Regina in their quest.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

This day hadn’t gone at all the way she’d anticipated—but nothing ever did.

She’d wanted to get away—away from Storybrooke, away from the monotony, away from the loneliness. She hasn’t done it often, and it’s been years since the last time she’s ventured away, but something had compelled her and somehow she’d gotten it in her head that a trip to New York City would give her a thrill. She’d spent the early afternoon browsing in expensive shops. She bought a couple of things—a smart pencil skirt, a new pair of Jimmy Choos and a cobalt dress that fit in all the right places—and she ate lunch in a café where people smiled at her and made small talk. She spent the early evening visiting museums and admiring the blooming foliage in the park, watching unfamiliar faces come and go. And for most of the day, it really was a thrill—a thrill because it was something out of the ordinary—but it hadn’t lasted.

With a sigh, she grips her fingers around the handles of her shopping bags and dips beneath the overhang that connects two shops, blinking up toward the darkening sky and watching as the rain pours down, beating against the sidewalk as puddles quickly pool.

“Well, isn’t this just _great_ ,” she mutters, setting her bags down beside her feet and digs into her purse for her cell phone. Looking up, she crinkles her nose, knowing it’ll be impossible to catch a cab in weather like this—and when she finds her phone, it’s of course dead. “This couldn’t be any worse.”

“At least it’s not cold.” She jumps and her phone falls back into her purse as she spins around to see a little boy staring up at her. His hair is matted and there are dirt smudges on his cheeks, but his eyes are bright and his voice is sweet. She blinks as he offers her a lopsided grin. “It would be worse if it were cold out _and_ raining.”

“Oh—yeah—I—I guess it would be,” she says slowly, her brow furrowing as she looks at the boy, huddled up in a worn winter coat, his arms hugging his knees as his fingers clutch to a backpack. “Trying to stay dry?” She asks in a skeptical voice, wondering why a boy his age is hiding away in a dark corner of Manhattan.

“I guess so,” he tells her, shrugging his shoulders as he looks away from her.

She takes a tentative step inward, looking around him and noticing a pile of candy wrappers at his side. He’s sitting on a dirty blanket that’s spread out beneath him and she can’t help but notice he’s eyeing the bakery box that sits beside her Jimmy Choo bag. She feels a stabbing at her heart when she realizes the boy isn’t just ducking out of the rain—this is where the boy lives.

Swallowing, she finds herself crouching down in front of him and her voice hitches in her throat, “I…I…I’m wondering…do you like hot cocoa?”

She watches as a small smile tugs up at the corners of his mouth and he nods, “With cinnamon.”

“Hot cocoa with cinnamon,” she says, her own smile stretching across her lips. “Would you like to go get some?” His eyebrows arch in reply and she finds herself holding her breath, surprised at how much she wants him to say yes.  Tentatively, he reaches out and takes her hand and together they stand. “Come on. If we run fast, we’ll barely get wet.”

He nods and holds on tighter as she pulls him up. She reaches for her shopping bags and he tosses his backpack over his shoulder before they run across the street toward a diner with a blinking ‘open’ sign in the window. She holds the door open for him and lets him select a booth—smiling as he slides in gingerly and grabs hold of a menu.

“We can get more than hot cocoa,” she says slowly, watching his eyes devour the menu and he licks his lips. “Whatever you’d like…”

“I can get anything?” He asks, looking up with wide hopeful eyes that are somehow familiar to her.

“Anything,” she tells him, watching as his fingers tap against the laminated menu as he tries to decide on something—and her heart clenches tightly in her chest at this boy’s excitement and she finds herself wondering the last time this boy had a decent meal.

“Can I get ya something?”

Regina blinks, looking up at the waitress, “We’ll start with two hot cocoas—and he’ll have his with cinnamon and whipped cream.” The boy grins up at her and once more she feels her heart clench. “ _Extra_ whipped cream.” The waitress nods and disappears behind the counter. “So,” Regina begins in a tentative voice, “See anything you like?”

“Everything.”

“What’s your name?”

“Henry,” the boy says, looking up from over the top of the menu. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Regina,” she says, watching the boy curiously as her mind drifts to another Henry. “That was my father’s name.”

“It was?” He asks, placing the menu down on the table. “I’ve never met anyone else named Henry,” he tells her as his hands clasp together atop the menu. “And I’ve decided.”

“Yeah? What are you going to have?”

“A cheeseburger. With bacon.” He pauses, “And fries….and soup.”

She grins, “You forgot about desert.”

“Can I?” He asks in a sheepish voice.

“I noticed apple pie ala mode on the back of the menu.” His eyes light up at her sincerity—and finds herself taken aback by the way it warms her heart—and again she wonders the last time anyone had allowed him to indulge, if anyone had ever treated him. “And I can never say no to a good slice of apple pie.” She takes a breath. “Henry, can I…”

“Ready to order?” The waitress asks as she sets the hot cocoas down in front of them. A sad smile forms on her lips as Henry begins to list his order, asking for extras of everything, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the waitress as she blinks at Regina.

“And I will have the Caesar salad,” she pauses and looks to Henry. “And a side order on onion rings.” With a nod the waitress leaves them. “I saw you eyeing them,” she confesses—not really understanding why she feels so inclined to indulge him or why his hopeful grin eyes make her heart feel full or why his brown eyes feel so familiar to her.

“I’m glad it rained today.”

“You are?”

He nods, “I wouldn’t have met you if it didn’t rain.” He pauses and shrugs his shoulders as he dips his finger into the whipped cream and smiles. “I guess it’s true—everything does happen for a reason.”

“Yeah,” she says, breathing out as her stomach flips. “That is what they say.”

“Do you have kids?”

She shakes her head and tries not to linger on the thought, “No.”

“Oh, well, that’s too bad,” Henry says, as he takes a sip of the cocoa. She can’t help but laugh as he pulls the mug away from his mouth, leaving behind a whipped cream mustache. “You’d be a good mom,” he tells her, as he bats hand over his mouth. “You’re nice.”

“You think I’m nice?”

“Yeah,” he says easily. “No one’s ever been this nice to me.”

It’s a sentiment she understands—and it breaks her heart to hear it from this boy. She finds herself thinking of her own mother and how absent and cold she’d been when she was a girl—and then her thoughts shift to the child she’d almost adopted years before, a boy she who would have had her father’s name, a boy who certainly deserved better than what she could give.

“Henry,” she says slowly. “Can I ask you something?” He nods and she takes a breath. “Do you…live in that little space between those buildings? In that little space where I found you?”

His smile fades as his eyes meet hers and he swallows hard, setting the mug of cocoa down. “Are you from social services?” He asks as shoulders tense and his eyes grow distant. “I won’t go back,” he tells her as his fingers curl around the strap of his backpack. “You can’t make me. I won’t go back there!”

“No, no, no,” she’s quick to say, reaching across the table and covering his hand with hers. “I’m not from Social Services.” She smiles gently and feels an ache intensifying in her chest as tears well in his eyes. “I’m…I’m from Maine.”

“Maine?” He asks, his brow furrowing as his small shoulders rise and fall with each labored breath as tries his best not to cry.

She nods, “I’m the mayor of a…a little town called Storybrooke.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I came to New York to shop, not to take you back to anywhere. I promise.” She squeezes his hand and feels relief wash over her when his fingers hold around hers. “I was just…wondering.”

“Oh,” he says, somewhat sheepishly as his cheeks flush and he lets go of his backpack. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.” For a moment he’s quiet, but he continues to hold her hand. She rubs her thumb against his wrist and when finally looks back up at her, his face crumbles and the tears that welled in his eyes begin to fall down his cheeks—and once more, she sees something familiar and her heart breaks. She swallows the lump of tears that rise into her throat and takes a long breath, slowly exhaling it. “Henry, can I ask you another question?”

“Yeah…”

“How old are you?”

“Eight,” he tells her. “Well…I will be in three days.”

Her lungs deflate and her fingers curl tighter around his hand, and she wonders if it could be this much of a coincidence—and deep down, she knows that it’s not. Her eyes sink closed and all of the guilt and doubt she’s stifled for the past seven and a half years comes bubbling up to the surface. She’d convinced herself that it was for the best—that not adopting the sweet baby boy she’d so easily fallen in love with was what was best for him, that without her he could be raised in a family by people who truly knew how to love, that by giving him up she was offering him his best chance.

“Oh, Henry…”

She can say no more because the waitress arrives and sets plate after plate of food onto the table. Henry pulls his hand away and reaches for a fry, tossing it into his mouth. She smiles as she watches him eat, watching as he devours the food and savors every bite. She pushes her fork through her salad, unable to eat it as her stomach flips and flops with guilt—she couldn’t have been more wrong.

He doesn’t seem to notice the way that she’s looking at him or that she hasn’t touched her food—and she’s glad when he slips into an easy and energetic conversation about his favorite comic books. She smiles as she listens, nodding and laughing, asking questions and finding herself more interested in _The Avengers_ than she ever knew possible.

“Have you seen any of the movies?” He asks as he licks ketchup from his fingers.

“No,” she admits softly. “I’ve never even read the comics.”

His eyes widen as if she’s said something incredible and then he reaches for his backpack. He pulls out a stack of worn comics and thumbs through them. “You should start with this one,” he tells her, handing her a copy. Slowly she takes it from him and her eyes wander over the cover, lingering momentarily at the red New York City Public Library stamp. “I didn’t steal it,” he’s quick to say as his voice grows defensive. “They were throwing them away because they’re so torn up.”

“I didn’t think you did,” she tells him, blinking as she looks up from the comic. “I was just…admiring…the gentleman in the purple shorts.”

He grins, “That’s Hulk.”

“Oh…”

“The one with the bow and arrow is Hawkeye. He’s my favorite.”

She feels her smile deepen as he goes on to tell her about his favorite Avenger and the character’s trials and tribulations, and she can’t help but laugh as his voice piques with excitement and he squirms  in his seat. When he eats the last fry, she feels a splintering in her chest—she doesn’t want this meal to end.

“Henry, you didn’t answer my question before.” He blinks and reaches for an onion ring. “About where you live.”

“I…live in a lot of places,” he says quietly. “It’s…better than before.”

Her brow furrows, “Henry, why did you think I was going to call social services?”

“Because that’s what adults do,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and dropping his eyes away from hers. “They send me back.”

She hesitates for a moment and heart aches, “Back…to where?”

“Them.”

“Your…parents?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t have parents. Not real ones.” He looks up at her and once more, there are tears welling in her eyes. “My foster parents don’t like me very much.”

“They…don’t?” She asks, her voice cracking as she feels warm tears brimming in her eyes. “What makes you say that?”

“They told me,” he admits quietly, as his fingers circle around an onion ring. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough. I’m not good enough.”

“Oh, Henry, it’s not _you_ who’s not good enough,” she says with a sigh. “It was never _you_.”

“That’s not how it feels.”

“So, you…ran away?”

He nods, “I didn’t know what else to do. Everything else I did made them mad.”

“Isn’t it…tough being all alone?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve always been alone. Even when I lived with people.”

Her chest aches and she takes a breath, her lips pursing as a question lingers on her lips. But before she can their waitress appears, slipping a bill onto the table and inquiring about to-go boxes. Regina nods and says they’ll probably need a few, and once more the waitress disappears with their plate and Regina’s credit card.

“Oh, do you have to leave now?” Henry asks with disappointed a sigh.

She blinks and shakes her head, “No, Henry. I don’t have to leave.” Again, she reaches across the table and gives his hand a light squeeze. “I’m really glad it rained tonight, too.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she nods. “I think…I was supposed to find you.” She feels a grin tugging at the counters of her mouth, as she watches him watching her with wide, wondering eyes. “I think it was fate.”

“What’s fate?”

“It means that things happen for a reason, that some things are meant to be.”

He considers for a moment, mulling over this new information and then he smiles. “I think it was fate, too.”

“Henry,” she says in a tentative voice, realizing how crazy her idea may seem. “I was thinking…” She takes another long breath and feels an odd mix of emotion rush through her. “You see, I came to New York today because I was feeling lonely. I’m not happy and I…I had this feeling that…if I came here, I would find something that would make me happy.”

“And you found me…” he whispers in a barely audible voice as he fidgets in his seat.

“Exactly, I found you.” She smiles gently. “Do you really think I’d make a good mom?” He offers her a vigorous nod and her smile stretches tighter across her lips. “You see…I never thought I would be, but I’m wondering if…maybe you’d give me a shot at it?”

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open, and again her heart clenches. “Are you…saying that you…want to adopt me?” He blinks in disbelief, “But…you just met me.”

She nods, “I know, it’s…it’s kind of crazy, but I…” She pauses, unsure of how to explain what she’s feeling and she doesn’t allow herself to think of how complicated this could become. “I just think that…you’re a kid who needs a mom and…I’m…”

“A mom who needs a kid.”

“Yeah…” She says with a meek nod. “Is that crazy?”

His smile lights up his eyes, “You…really would want to be my mom?”

She nods and thinks to the wiggly baby she’d held in her arms nearly eight years before and how desperately she loved him—how she’d loved him so much she’d been willing to let him go in hopes he’d have a happier life. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do—yet she’s lost count of the number of times she’s doubted it and regretted it, just as she’s lost track of the nights that boy’s sweet brown eyes haunted her. It could be a coincidence and whether or not it is or isn’t is completely irrelevant to her—she gave up one chance and now that a second chance has presented itself, there’s no way she’ll let it slip by.

“I just think that…maybe if we had each other, neither of us would be so lonely.”

“I’d really like that,” Henry tells her, grinning widely as the waitress returns with their food, boxed and bagged and returns Regina’s credit card to her. She drops it into her purse and pulls her shopping bags with her before slipping from the booth; Henry mimics her, gathering the food and slinging his backpack over his shoulder—and then, he reaches for her hand.

Her heart swells and she smiles—she’s never been one to believe in things like love at first sight. For everything she has she’s battled for and had to earn. It’s been that way her whole life and she’s always known that good things don’t just come along—yet when Henry looks up at and his eyes meet hers, she wonders if she hasn’t been wrong all along—it is possible to fall in love in an instant and sometimes good things do happen—and some things are meant to last.

____

A content smile forms on her lips, as she watches Henry cross the monkey bars.

In all her years in Storybrooke, she’s never spent this much time at the park, she’d never had a reason—but now that she has Henry, she finds herself doing lots things she never bothered to do before. She’s still herself, yet she’s also someone completely different. When she wakes in the morning her first thoughts are no longer of herself—she no longer dreads another mundane day in her office, looking at budgets and researching different types of parking meters—because she has Henry now and he comes first in her world.

His adoption was finalized the other day—and they celebrated by making pizza and watching _The Incredible Hulk._ He’d fell asleep against her arm and she’d carried him up to his bedroom, tucked him in and kissed his cheek as her heart swelled with gratitude. When she’d returned from New York with Henry in tow, everyone had talked about how kind she was to take in a child in need; yet, what he’d given her was so more than she could ever give him because for the first time since love had been ripped away from her all those years before, her heart was now open and she as happy because he’d brought love back into her life.

“Roland! Roland, slow down!”

She turns at the sound of a man’s voice and turns in his direction, watching as a curly-haired little boy runs toward the play ground. He stops beside her and shakes his head, “It’s all fun and games until he skins his knees.”

Regina grins and nods, “They think they’re unbreakable.”

“Indeed they do,” he returns with a smile. “Is that your boy?”

She nods proudly, “Yes—and every time he climbs up onto those things, my stomach flips.”

He laughs and nods, and then extends his hand, “Robin Locksley.”

“Regina Mills,” she says, as she shakes his hand and smiles politely.

“Oh, right—the mayor—I’m sorry, I should have known that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Is that the boy you adopted? He certainly is a lucky one.” Her eyebrow arches in reply and he smiles awkwardly, “I read about it in the paper. I—I’m sorry if…”

“It’s really okay,” she replies with an easy nod and a smile as she glances back to the playground. Her smile deepens as she focuses her attention focusing on her son, and she can’t help but think this man has it backwards—because _she’s_ the lucky one.


	2. Chapter 2

She tries not to think about the logistics because if she does, she’ll have to admit to herself that she’s made something of an impossible promise to him, and though he’s only just come into her life, the thought of letting him down is unbearable to her.

He takes her hand as they wait for a cab and she smiles down at him, her heart fluttering as he offers her a lopsided grin.

She knows that she can’t just ignore that there are legalities involved; after all, somewhere out there is the foster family that he ran away from, a social worker who is assigned to him, other people who have likely wondered whatever happened to him; and despite all of the ways those people have failed him, they’re still legally obligated to him and have much more of a claim on him than she does.

She’d be lying if she said that it hadn’t occurred to her how easy it would be to just disappear with him—to take him back to her own fantastical world and never be seen or heard from again—but deep down, she knows that it’s not a viable option because, if anything, he deserves better than a false sense of security.

He swings their hands back and forth, peering down the busy street as he watches for a cab. She takes a breath and smiles softy at him—if she’s going to do this, she’s going to do it the right way. She won’t be yet another adult who lets him down and his sense of safety won’t be threatened because of her brazen mistakes. There’s little she’s done in her life that she considers to have been the right thing—and usually, that doesn’t bother her—but she’s going to do this the right way. She’s going to be better—because he deserves her to be.

He waves his free hand and a yellow cab pulls to the curb, and quickly they’re inside of it, speeding toward her hotel just a few blocks away. She watches Henry carefully, watching as he watches New York City fly past them, his eyes wide and innocent as he takes it in as if he’s experiencing the city for the first time. She can’t remember the last time she had someone in her life who made her feel this way—who made her smile, who she wanted to love, who she’d do anything to protect. She’d forgotten what that felt like, but she hasn’t forgotten what it felt like to lose it.

So she tries not to think about what will happen when they return to Storybrooke where nothing is as it seems. Her life there isn’t real, it’s all an illusion and the people in it are shells of who they used to be. Deep down, she knows that by bringing him into that world, her carefully crafted façade is going to crack. But as the cab slows as he once again takes her hand and she decides that’s another battle for another day. The cab pulls away from the curb and she takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling it as she looks down at the little boy at her side—and when he smiles shyly and bats his eyelashes at her she finds that keeping her secrets don’t really matter much to her. She’s always been resourceful and she’s always been determined, and she has no reason to believe that the impossible can’t be possible.

“Are you tired?” She asks, as they step into the hotel’s lobby.

“No,” he says, shaking his head as his eyes widen. “Wow, this place is… _amazing_.”

“It’s not too bad,” she agrees, grinning as he tugs him toward the elevators. “So, if you’re not tired, what do you want to do when we get up to the room?”

His cheeks flush a little as he chews his bottom lips, looking up at her uncomfortably. “Can I…take a bath?”

“Oh…” She breathes out, her eyes slowly trailing over him. The light is brighter here and she can see that his hair is oily and his skin discolored. His fingernails are dirty and his clothes are stained, and she decides that it’s safe to assume there’s not a change of clothes tucked into his backpack. “Of course you can,” she says, looking around the lobby, smiling softly in the direction of the gift shop. “But first, I have an idea…” She leads him toward the gift shop and they stop in front of the entrance. “How about getting some pajamas to change into after that bath?”

His eyes widen, “Really?”

His excitement is both endearing and heartbreaking. She licks her thumb before reaching out and rubbing a smudge of dirt off of his cheek, “So, you go in and take a look around. I’m going to take our bags to the front desk so someone can take them up to the room, and then I’ll meet you inside, okay?”

He hesitates, but nods, and she watches as he disappears into the shop. She keeps a watchful eye on him as she makes her way to the front desk, checking the bags and instructing the concierge to have someone take them up as she peruses the brochures on local events and shopping and dining available in New York City. She smiles as she selects a few and tucks them into her purse.

Looking up, she sees Henry through the gift shop’s window—and immediately, her shoulders tense. He’s hugging a sweatshirt to himself and his jaw quivers as he looks up at a tall man standing in front of him—he looks so scared. She moves quickly, practically running in her too-high high heels and a moment later, she’s sliding her arm around his small shoulders and pulling him back against her legs.

“Is there a problem?” She asks curtly, her eyebrow arching as she sizes up the hotel employee and prepares for a verbal assault only an Evil Queen could deliver.

But he cowers down and takes a step back. “I…didn’t know he was with someone.”

“He is,” she confirms, her voice softer as her fingers press gently into Henry’s shoulder and she circles around him, kneeling down so that they’re eye-to-eye. “Are you okay?” He sniffles and nods, and his arm loosens around the sweatshirt. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“He thought I was trying to steal this,” Henry says meekly, averting her eyes. “He said he was going to call security.” Her heart clenches and her jaw tightens, and for a moment, she stares past him to the counter where the clerk stands. She knows how it looks—this unkempt little boy wearing a thinned out red winter coat in the middle of August, alone and browsing the sweatshirt selection in the gift-shop of a five-star hotel—yet she can’t help the anger that bubbles within her at the accusation. She takes a breath and pushes it away, instead focusing on Henry.

“So this is it, huh? This is the one you like best?” She tries to smile as she squeezes his hands reassuringly, trying to distract him from what just happened. Gently, she takes the sweatshirt from him and holds it up, smiling softly at the cobalt blue hoodie with lime green and white letters that spell out ‘New York City.’ “Do you like blue?” she asks.

He nods, but just barely. With a sigh, she reaches out and tips up his chin and before she can say anything, his face crumbles. “I wasn’t going to take it. It was soft and I just wanted to feel it, so I put my hands in the sleeves. I _promise_ I wasn’t going to just take it.” Her heart clenches and she feels another rush of anger as she briefly looks past Henry to the sales clerk at the counter. “I wouldn’t do anything to purposely make you mad.”

Her eyes dart back to him and for a brief moment, she thinks of herself at his age and the way she pleaded with her mother not to be upset with her. It didn’t matter what she’d done—intentional or not—the punishment was always the same, and when it was over she found herself just a little more cautious than she’d been before.

“ _You_ didn’t do anything wrong, Henry,” she says in a firm voice as she gives his hand another assuring squeeze. “And I am not mad at you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“I just…don’t want you to change your mind,” he tells her, his voice a hoarse whisper as his eyes look tentatively back at her.

Shaking her head, she sighs. “I know we don’t know each other very well and I know this is all very sudden, but Henry, if there’s one thing you should know about me once I decide I want to do something, I do it. I don’t give up very easily.”

He has no idea what an understatement it is and he has no idea that this isn’t the first time their paths have crossed. She smiles gently and things of the wiggly, colicky little boy she held in her arms and loved so dearly—loved so dearly, she that she let him go. She’d spent the last eight years trying to convince herself that she’d done the right thing, that she could never have been what a child needed, that she was too broken and damaged to properly love a child; and he has no idea that tonight, she’d been slapped in the face with the reality that she’d been wrong. Eight years of guilt had come rushing back to her, and he has no idea how desperately she wants to right that wrong.

“So, Henry, I want you to know that there isn’t anything you could say or do that’s going to make me change my mind about this.” She takes a breath and swallows the lump that’s rising at the back of her throat. “Okay?”

He nods and slowly a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and he looks away shyly, focusing on the sweatshirt. “Blue’s my favorite color.”

“Is it?” She asks, a soft grin forming over her lips as he nods again. “So, I suppose we should probably get the matching blue pants then?”

“I can get both?” She laughs a little and nods, as he reaches for a matching pair of sweatpants, his small hands running slowly over the soft fabric. Slowly, he turns his eyes up to meet hers. “Thank you.”

She nods and her smile deepens, knowing that he isn’t talking about the sweatshirt. Once more she squeezes his hand and stands up and together they walk toward the check out. On the way she grabs a pair of cargo shorts that look about his size and then a blue t-shirt that reads ‘NY’s Finest’, making a mental note that tomorrow morning, they’ll have some proper shopping to do.

Clearing her throat, she sets the items on the counter. Her jaw tenses as she looks at the clerk across from her and things of Henry’s trembling jaw and teary eyes.

“Did you…find everything okay?”

She offers a curt nod, smiling coldly as she holds her tongue. There’s a part of her that wants tear into him, to make him feel as small as he made Henry feel, to inquire if it’s company policy to grill the children of their guests to the point of tears, but she chooses against it, knowing it’s not what Henry needs to hear.

She takes the bag and hands it to Henry, smiling warmly as they make their way out of the shop and toward the elevators. She grins as he swings the bag back and forth as he watches the numbers light up on the elevator, and when the elevator door opens, he takes her hand and she feels her heart swell.

They make their way down the hall, and quickly she swipes her key card and opens the door. He goes in first and she can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth as he sees the sparkling cityscape in front of them.

“I’ve never seen New York like this,” he murmurs as he takes a step closer as his backpack falls from his shoulder.

She chuckles softly as she closes the door, dropping her purse down into a chair. Her arm slips over around his shoulders as she leads him to the window and crouches down beside him. “Do you see that build there? The one with the all the lights at the top?” He nods. “Do you know what that is?” He looks back at her with wide eyes and shakes his head. “It’s the Empire State Building and you can go to the top—to the Observation Deck—and look at the city. It’s usually pretty crowded, but you can have lunch up there, looking over the city…”

“That’s so cool.”

“You’ve never been?” He shakes his head and looks back at the open window. “Would you like to? Tomorrow?”

“Really?” He turns back to her, smiling broadly at the prospect.

“Yeah, I thought maybe tomorrow we could…spend a day being tourists. We see the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, do some shopping, go to Central Park…” She pauses, and her voice trails off. Admittedly, she has no idea the sort of activities that would appeal to a boy of his age, but he eyes are wide and he looks excited. She feels a fluttering in her chest and she’s taken aback by the way his smile makes her feel—how it makes her feel things she once thought she was no longer capable of feeling. “I don’t know…maybe we can just see where the day takes us and…have fun.”

“I like that idea,” he tells her with a decisive nod and a toothy grin.

“I was thinking maybe it could be…a pre-birthday celebration.” Her eyebrow arch and she laughs as his eyes grow even wider and he starts to fidget in place, practically squirming with excitement. “But first, you need that bath.”

Standing up, she takes him by the hand and leads him to the bathroom.  She sets a few towels on the counter and sits on the edge of the tub as it fills with water. From the mirror she watches as Henry looks at the bottles lines on the counter, his small fingers running over the labels. When the tub is filled she stands, smiling as she tells him to call her if he needs anything. He nods as she leaves, leaving the door open just a crack as she passes through it.

She changes quickly into pajamas and at the dresser she removes her make-up, smiling at the soft subtle noises coming from the bathroom. It’s nice to not be alone, she thinks as she reaches for her purse and pulls out the brochures from the front desk. She glosses over the first, noting attractions she thinks a small child might like, and before she gets to the second one, Henry’s head is peeking out of the bathroom as he offers her a lopsided grin.

“That was quick.”

“I got lonely,” he tells her, shrugging his shoulders and he steps into the room wearing his new sweats. His cheeks are rosy and his hazel eyes look even brighter than they were before, as his fingers twist around the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt. “And I was getting sleepy.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, as she tosses the brochures onto the nightstand and pulls back the corner of the blanket. “Then I suppose it’s time for bed.”

“But that’s your bed.”

“It’s yours tonight,” she tells him, patting the mattress as his brow furrows.

“But where will you sleep?” She gestures toward the arm chair beside the dresser and he shakes his head. “But I’m smaller. I’d fit in the chair better.”

“But I’ve slept in a bed more recently.” Again, she pats the bed. “It’s your turn.”

He hesitates for a moment and then steps forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly. Her arms slowly fold around him, her hand cupping the back of his head. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his small voice cracking. She can feel his tears against her pajamas, as she pulls him closer. Her breath catches in her throat as she strokes her fingers through his hair, holding him until his tears stop and he slowly withdraws.

He smiles shyly averting her eyes as rubs his back and helps him into bed. She tucks the blanket around him, folding it around his shoulders before wiping away the remnants of his tears with her thumbs. “I’m glad you’re here, Henry,” she tells him, as she kisses two of her fingers then presses them to his cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night, Regina,” he says quietly, his eyes fluttering as he burrows back against the pillow and a smile stretches over his lips.

She smiles gently and takes a deep breath as she reaches for the light—and if there’s anything that she’s sure of, she’s going to find a way to make this work.


	3. Chapter 3

She spoils him—she can’t help it.

They spend a full day in New York shopping—they start at Macys where one purchase only seems to lead to another. She buys him the basics, along with a few pairs of jeans and shorts, t-shirts and button ups, gym shoes and sandals, and a hoodie that zips up over the hood and makes him look like The Incredible Hulk. With Henry, almost everything is a necessity and by the time they make it to the counter, there’s an entire wardrobe in their cart.

She watches the way he looks down at it, his eyes scanning over the layers upon layers of clothing as he mulls over their choices. A smirk forms on her lips as he touches his fingers to the sleeve of the hoodie and he twists the price tag between his fingers.

“You know,” he begins, “We don’t have to get all of this.”

“Yes we do,” she replies easily as her eyes shift to Henry and her smirk turns to a grin. “There’s no reason not to.”

His eyebrows arch and he looks back at the cart, his hazel eyes widening a bit as he absently pets the sleeve of the hoodie. “If you combined all my other birthdays, I don’t think I ever got this much.”

“Oh, Henry,” she says with a soft laugh behind her words. “This isn’t for your birthday.”

“It’s not?” He asks, his brow furrowing as he looks up at her. “Then…why?”

“Because you need things and because…I want to,” she tells him, smiling softly.

It’s hard to explain, she realizes, how this child she’s only really know for a couple of days makes her feel. But whenever she looks at him, her heart flutters and swells—she feels things she hasn’t felt in years and she remembers a part of herself she thought had disappeared. When she looks at him, she thinks of the wiggly baby boy she loved so much and her heart clenches—she remembers the day she gave him back, her wholehearted belief that she wasn’t enough for him and she remembers how her heart had ached for months afterward. And when she looks at him now, she can’t help but think that maybe this is a second chance for the both of them. Letting him go was a mistake she made once, but it won’t be a mistake she makes again.

She glances up to see the customer in front of them is slipping a credit card back into her wallet; it’s nearly their turn to check out. So, she slips an arm around Henry’s shoulders, gently pushing him toward the cash register as she asks, “Are you hungry?”

He grins, “I am an almost-eight year old kid. I am always hungry.”

She laughs, “Okay, then how about we go get something for lunch and discuss the plan for your birthday tomorrow.” They reach the counter and Regina begins to unload the cart, but her eyes remain on Henry. “How does pizza sound?”

“Amazing,” Henry replies. “Have you ever had New York style pizza?”

“I haven’t.”

“Neither have I.”

“Well, then it’ll be a first for both of us,” Regina says, grinning softly as Henry pulls the hoodie from the thinning pile of clothes. “You really like that, don’t you?”

Henry nods and she expects him to smile, but he doesn’t. “My foster brother had one like it. But he had the Spiderman one and I thought it was so cool.” He shrugs and continues to pet the sleeve, “But I wasn’t allowed to wear it. Not even for a couple of minutes.”

“Well,” she begins, pushing away the feelings of anger and guilt she feels bubbling at her core and focusing on the little boy in front of her, a reminder that the past doesn’t have to decide the future. “Now you have your very own.”

_____

They spend his eighth birthday at Coney Island, riding rides and eating funnel cakes and cotton candy—and the only thing that makes up for the chili-dog Henry insists she eats is his constant smile and laughter. When it seems they’ve exhausted the rides and games, she buys them lemonades and they go for a walk along the boardwalk, eventually settling on a little patch of beach where they wait to watch the fireworks.

“So, on a scale from one to ten,” Regina begins with a smirk. “Where would you rank this birthday?”

“Fifty,” he laughs. “Today’s been so much fun!”

She laughs out and takes a sip of her lemonade as she looks back at the park, “And, if you had to choose which ride was your favorite today?”

“The cyclone,” he says immediately.

“Funny, that was my least favorite.”

He grins as he chews on the straw, “You might have enjoyed it more if you’d stopped screaming and opened your eyes.”

Her eyes widen and she laughs out, “You spend three days with me and you’re already picking up my sass.”

He shrugs his shoulder and sips his lemonade, “Well, it’s not untrue…”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she tells him as a grin stretches over her lips. “The carousel was more my speed and I liked the horses.”

He laughs but before he can say anything her cell phone rings, and she watches as he holds his breath. She glances quickly down at the caller ID and shakes her head—it’s not the phone call they’ve been waiting for, but it is her office and she has to take the call. She gets up and walks a few yards away, keeping an eye on Henry as her secretary inquires about her whereabouts and wonders why some man keeps calling and asking questions about her and about Storybrooke.

She bristles and quickly explains the situation—how she found Henry and felt an immediate connection, how he’s been staying with her at the hotel in New York and how the day before they’d met with his social worker. She leaves out the way she had to hold onto Henry’s hand to keep him from shaking, fearing he’d be taken back to his foster family or back into protective services to try his luck with another unknown family. She leaves out the way she’d reprimanded the social worker for allowing a seven year old to be in a situation that made homelessness look inviting; and she leaves out the way she’d made thinly veiled threats when the social was reveled there just hadn’t been enough evidence to remove him from the foster home and place him somewhere safe. She doesn’t tell her how she’d held her breath when the social worker then asked to speak to Henry privately or how her stomach contorted into knots and she could barely breathe, and she doesn’t tell her about the the sense of relief that washed over her when the social worker released Henry into her care—a tentative agreement contingent on her background check clearing—was overwhelming in more ways than one.

Her mind reeled, wondering what a background check would actually uncover. Though the greatest sins of her past were untraceable in this world, there was still the cursed town that didn’t actually exist to all the cold, boarderlining on cruel quips she’d made to the residents of Storybrooke—her secretary included—over the years that could deem her an unacceptable choice to care for Henry.

But her secretary gasps with excitement over the potential news of Henry coming back to Storybrooke with her, adding an emphatic that’s so great and how she just knows it’s going to all work out with Henry’s social worker and she cannot wait to meet him.

“So, that means…you said good things about…me?”

“Of course I did,” the secretary confirms.

Regina exhales again and glances back at Henry, smiling gently as she watches him chew his straw as he stares out at the setting sun, and she makes a mental note to make up for all the Secretary’s Days she missed over the years. She thanks her and tells her she’ll keep her posted on new developments with Henry before flipping her phone shut, and rejoining Henry on the blanket.

“I think my background check checked out,” she tells him. “So, we’re one step closer.”

A smile spreads across Henry’s lips and his hazel eyes flash with excitement, “That’s good.”

“It is,” she says with a nod as a cool breeze blows in from the water. “And, I’ve got something for you…”

“You do?”

“It’s not much, but…” She trails off as she pulls a slender box from the bag and holds it in her hands. “I was hoping we’d have some news by this point, but it’s not looking like that’s going to be today.” Still, she smiles as she hands the box to him. “Happy birthday, Henry.”

Slowly, he reaches out and takes the box, letting his fingers slide over the glossy paper and tangle in the ribbon. “You didn’t have to…”

“Henry,” she interjects quickly. “It’s your birthday.”

“I know, but you’ve already gotten me so much stuff.”

“Well, this isn’t…much,” she tells him, watching as he tears a corner of the paper. “But I wanted you to have something to open that was a surprise…”

He grins and tears the rest of the paper away and lifts the box top. She hears his breath catch in his throat. “When did you have time to get these?” He asks, glancing up quickly as he thumbs through a stack of brand new comic books, examining each title quickly. “How did you even know these are ones I like!?”

“I have my ways,” she tells him, grinning at the excitement in his voice and watching as he picks up one of the comics and examines the cover, holding it carefully in his hands. “There’s something else in there, underneath the last comic….”

Henry looks up then lifts the stack of comics and carefully sets them down beside on the blanket before reaching for the envelope that remains in the box. His brow furrows as his fingers slip under the seal. He grins at the card—The Avengers all looking tough on the cover and when it opens it, they all shout Happy Birthday. She watches as he reads her note and picks up the post-card that sits inside, examining it closely before looking up at her.

“Is this a subscription?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “You just have to fill in which ones you want and we’ll drop it into the mailbox on the way back to the hotel.” She watches as a smile slowly tugs at the corners of his mouth as he flips the card over and looks at his choices. “You can pick whatever ones you like…” She tells him as her own smile forms. “Storybrooke isn’t exactly…an exciting place, and I honestly can’t tell you if there’s a comic book store or somewhere that sells them, even though I’m the mayor and know more about that town than anyone, and…I…want you to be happy there.”

He looks up at her and smiles again—so sweet and sincere—and he bats his eyelashes and then looks away, something she’s come to realize he does when he’s feeling grateful, but doesn’t quite know the words to express it. And each time, it makes her heart flutter.

“I’ve…never had a birthday like this.”

“Well, we’ll have quite a few more to celebrate together over the years, if I have anything to say about it,” she tells him as she glances up at the quickly darkening sky. “I also have seven birthdays to make up for…”

“No,” he’s quick to say. “I didn’t say that to…”

“Henry,” she cuts in. “Don’t apologize. Things have been rough for you and I want to make up for some of that. I know I can’t change the last seven years, but…”

“But you already have,” he says simply. “You’re trying to give me a fresh start. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just to…start all over.”

“Yeah, I…know that feeling better than anyone,” she says quietly, as a lump rises in the back of her throat and she again feels a wave of guilt, wondering if he’d hate her if he knew that that fresh start could have happened seven years before. Swallowing hard, she reaches for her tote bag, this time pulling out the Hulk hoodie they purchased the day before and hands it to Henry.“It’s getting a little chilly,” she tells him, as he takes the sweatshirt and smiles.

Her guilt fades away and she can’t help but laugh out as Henry puts on the sweatshirt and zips it up all the way and The Incredible Hulk’s face replaces his—and all she can think of how easy it’s been to fall in love with this child.

They get the phone call from Henry’s social worker saying that Regina can take Henry back to Storybrooke later that night, and they celebrate with ice cream and a movie at the hotel. He chooses Chunky Monkey—something else that Regina’s never encountered—and selects Robin Hood as the movie—and she confesses that the stories of Robin Hood are some of her favorites. Henry’s smile is immediate and he seems glad that they share a common interest—and for the first time in her life, she feels like she’s doing something right and the universe may finally be working in her favor.

____

Though she flew into New York, the date on her return ticket has come and gone, and she decides they’ll rent a car and drive back to Maine. Not only is she leaving with considerably more bags than she arrived with, the idea of a road trip excites Henry and she hopes it’ll give them the opportunity to get to know each other a little better and create some memories before real life takes over.

On the drive back to Maine they roll down the windows and listen to 80s music, and Henry sings along. He giggles as Regina searches each and every motel room they stop at for bugs and other unpleasant things before she’ll allow him to set foot inside the room and he creates a list of all the fast food she has to try on their drive back, diligently crossing things off the list with every stop. Regina pays close attention to the road signs, pulling off the expressway whenever there’s a sign for a historical landmark or museum or some quirky little attraction. And when there are no stops for a long stretch, they play a game of “Would You Rather.” She learns that he likes dinosaurs and trains, prefers taffy to chocolate–except when it comes to donuts–and has always wanted to learn to sword fight. He thinks magic tricks are exciting and he likes to read, and when he tells her Snow White is his least favorite cartoon, she feels a sense of pride that is completely unfounded and ridiculous. By the time they reach Portland, she’s filled four disposable cameras and buys another at the rental car kiosk at the airport, and then they’re on their way to Storybrooke.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was in the middle of nowhere,” Henry murmurs as she drives over the town line. “Is the town in the middle of the forest?”

“Kind of…it is surrounded.” She takes a breath and pushes away the nagging feeling that perhaps they should have stayed in New York. Starting a new life there would have been easy enough, yet here they are; and if she’s learned anything about Henry over the course of the past week, it’s that he’s an observant and thoughtful kid…and it’s only a matter of time before he realizes that something in Storybrooke is amiss. “It’s an old mining town,” she adds in an attempt to give the fantastical town some sort of authenticity.

“Cool…”

She takes another breath. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” he says as he turns away from the window. “I’m starving.”

“That continental breakfast didn’t do it for you, huh?”

“It was okay,” he says easily. “But I’m a growing boy—I eat a lot.”

“I’ve noticed,” she says with a short laugh as her lip catches between her teeth and she considers the few options available to them. Usually, she prefers to eat at home—cooking has always been cathartic and it’s something she’s good at and grown accustomed to, but it won’t solve the immediate problem of a hungry child until at least dinner time. “Well, there’s always Granny’s…”

“Granny’s?”

“It’s a diner that…everyone eats at,” she replies. “It’s one of the few restaurants in Storybrooke.”

“I like diners,” he muses easily, again turning his attention to the trees. “Is it far?”

“No,” she says, smiling softly as she looks over at him, watching the scenery pass with a sort of wonder and innocence in his eyes, as if he’s looking at something truly exciting rather than just row after row of trees and foilage. “We’re almost there.”

With the next turn she’s driving down Main Street and a few minutes later, she’s pulling into a spot in front of Granny’s. Henry’s eager to get out of the car and she feels her stomach flop as he looks curiously down the street. Slowly, she circles around the car and guides his shoulders toward the diner, once more taking a deep breath.

She reaches for the door, but opens and a man steps out and holds it open for them. She smiles curtly and nods, but keeps her eyes fixed on Henry. He selects a booth and she slides in on the opposite side, glancing quickly around the diner—Storybrooke doesn’t get new residents and no one visits, so the sight of the town’s mayor with a child no one’s ever seen before is cause for some lingering gazes.

But Henry doesn’t seem to notice, instead, he grabs a menu from where they sit on the table. “I think that man liked you.”

“What?” She asks, completely taken aback by Henry’s words. “What man?”

“The one who held the door,” Henry says easily. “He smiled at you.”

“He was being…polite,” Regina says dismissively. “And I am the mayor.”

“It wasn’t that kind of smile,” Henry says, arching an eyebrow as he smirks at her.

Her eyes widen, “And how would you know?”

He shrugs and looks back to the menu. “I’ve spent a lot of time watching people.”

Slowly, she turns her head, looking back down the street and watching as the man who held the door lifts a little boy onto his shoulders; and, she finds a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “He smelled like forest,” she says dismissively as she reaches for her own menu.

“Is that a bad thing?”

She blinks. “No…”

Henry giggles softly and flips the menu over, then looks up at her with wide eyes. “This menu says they have the world’s best lasagna. Is that true?”

“No,” she’s quick to say, this time her tone a bit more emphatic. “I make the best lasagna, but Granny does make a pretty good burger and the milkshakes here are probably the best I’ve ever had.”

She pauses, holding her breath as Ruby approaches the table.

“Hey, who’s this?” Ruby asks, smiling almost sweetly as she looks between Henry and Regina.

“This is Henry,” Regina says in a tentative voice. “Storybrooke’s newest resident.”

“Oh, well, welcome to Stroybrooke, Henry,” Ruby says. “It’s dull but, the milkshakes here almost make up for that.”Henry laughs and orders a burger and vanilla milkshake, and Regina orders the same. Ruby’s eyebrows arch and her head tilts, “Really, Mayor? A burger?”

“Living dangerously today,” she replies as she takes in a short breath, knowing the waitress has no idea how true that statement is. “But, I suppose everyone needs a little change every now and then.”

“You’re telling me,” Ruby scoffs before grinning back at Henry. “It was good to meet you, Henry. It’s nice to have a new face around here.”

Henry smiles back and returns the sentiment—and Regina finds herself thinking of how true it is. It is nice to have him here and when he smiles at her, she can’t help but think that everything will work out for them. That they’ll be happy here—that they’ll both finally be happy.


	4. Chapter 4

After lunch, they talk a walking tour through Storybrooke. Their first stop is the pharmacy, where Regina drops off the several rolls of film she’s collected over the past few days to be developed. She smiles to herself as Henry grabs hold of her hand as they walk back out onto Main Street—something that’s beginning to be an automatic response for him whenever they’re in a crowded or public space. The way that he trusts her stirs something deep inside of her—something she can’t quite place—and it makes her want to be a better person. For so long as Queen she cared for only herself, everyone else became collateral; and as mayor, especially in the earliest years of the curse, she tried to do better, but fell short because no matter what, it didn’t matter in the end–the slate was always wiped clean as the years muddled together. But with Henry, things were different.

He laughs softly as he swings their hands back and forth as they pass little shops and business—he’s curious, taking in the small town, looking at it as if it were the most exciting place he’d ever been. Regina points out some of the more interesting places—a wood-crafting shop where Marcus whittles everything from small intricate figurines to large ornate furniture pieces and Gold’s Pawn Shop that sells all sorts of strange antiques and relics of another time and place. They don’t go inside either shop, but spend a few moments lingering at the windows, looking at the displays.

“I used to like to do this in New York,” Henry says, as he presses his fingers to the glass of a sporting goods store she never quite noticed before. “I used to make up stories about the things I saw in the windows.”

“Oh yeah? What kinds of stories?”

Henry chews at his bottom lip as he stares into the window. “Like that canoe,” he says, as her eyes travel to a yellow canoe hanging from the rafters. “I’d pretend I was a famous explorer.” He looks back at her and grins, “And I’d travel in that canoe.” He considers for a moment, “Up the…Amazon.”

She can’t decide if that detail about his time in New York is heartwarming or heartbreaking—and reasons that perhaps, it’s a little of both. She slides her arm around his shoulders and guides him away from the window—as they turn a messy-haired little boy knocks on the glass, waving at the as they leave. They wave back and then continue down Main Street, and she makes a mental note that Storybrooke does indeed have a comic book store as they pass it—and perhaps, she thinks, it might make a fun outing on a rainy day sometime. She smiles to herself as they turn the corner, away from Main Street and toward City Hall—she can’t remember the last time she planned for something that laid ahead of her, something in her future.

As they approach City Hall, Henry looks on curiously, as she points out her office windows and the bench where she sometimes likes to have lunch—a secluded spot that overlooks a well-manicured courtyard, where an apple tree from her childhood home has been replanted—one of the few spots in which she feels completely content.

“Do you eat alone?” He asks suddenly, his voice piquing with worry as his brow furrows.

A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth—his concern is touching. “Most of the time,” she tells him as they continue toward the grassy expanse at the side of the building. “It’s a good time to…think, take a break from everything.”

“But don’t you get lonely?” Henry’s hazel eyes are wide and his brow is furrowed. “That was always the worst part of changing schools,” he adds quietly. “Sitting all alone at lunch while everyone else got to eat with their friends.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, her heart clenching in her chest as she thinks of him sitting alone in a crowded cafeteria. It’s a feeling she knows well—being lonely despite being surrounded by people, feeling invisible. She spent most of her life feeling that way and she hates to think that he has, too. “Did you change schools often?”

“Yeah…”

“Why?” She asks, feeling a knot forming in her stomach. “Did you move around a lot? From family to family?”

“No. I just had the one family,” he says, looking away from her. “But I had to change schools whenever people started to…you know…figure stuff out.” He shrugs. “Teachers always saw things.”

Her mouth feels suddenly dry and the knot in her stomach clenches tighter. “Saw things?”

“Yeah,” he nods, still swinging their entwined hands back and forth. “Bruises and things.”

“Oh, Henry…”

“So, they’d change my school and I’d have to start all over again.”

“How many schools did you go to?”

“Four,” he tells her as a small smile edges onto his lips. “The last was my favorite.”

“Why’s that?” She asks, holding her breath—she wants him to say something about a teacher who was kind to him or an art class he had fun in, but she knows that’s likely not the case despite his easy tone. There’s something admirable yet painful about the way he continues on, seemingly unfazed—as if it were normal for a second-grader to change schools four times, as if it were normal to go to school with noticeable bruises, as if it were normal to never have anything tangible and to know that, in a moment’s notice, everything could be taken away. And she can’t help but think that at eight-years old, he’s braver than most and certainly braver than she ever was.

“It was far away,” he tells her, looking back up. “I had to take two busses.”

“Why did you like that?”

“Because I got to see the city,” he shrugged. “Going to school felt like an adventure.”

She swallows a lump that’s rising into her throat—it suddenly makes sense how at seven years old he ended up living in an alley in New York. “I’m so sorry, Henry,” she murmurs, pushing away thoughts of how she could have prevented it all.

Henry shrugs his shoulders easily, looking up into the branches of the apple tree.

“Do you want to try one?” She asks, circling around him and leaning against the trees trunk. “These just happen to be the best apples in all of Maine.”

“They are?”

She nods, “They are. And I know my apples.” Henry replies with a vigorous nod and she can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. She lifts him up so that he can choose an apple and he pulls down two; and before his feet touch back down onto the ground he’s biting into apple. “I, um, thought maybe we could wash…”

“It’s really sweet!” He cuts in, his eyes wide as he takes a second bite and some of the apples juice trickles down his chin. She laughs as she reaches out and wipes it away, then combs her fingers through the front of his hair. He takes a few more bites, then suddenly looks up at her, extending the second apple. “Oh, I forgot…”

Smiling, she shakes her head. “Why don’t we save that one, and maybe pick a few more. We can make an apple pie tonight to have after dinner.”

“Really? I’ve never had apple pie before.”

“Well, then it’s settled. We’re having apple pie for desert,” she decides as Henry finishes his apple.

They select a few more large apples from the tree and Henry insists on holding them all as they walk back toward Main Street. She stretches her arm around his shoulders and she can’t help but notice the way the residents of Storybrooke look at her as they pass—smiling and nodding at her, their eyes warming at the sight of Henry as they trade pleasantries—acknowledging her in a way that seems different than before. And a part of her wonders that if the difference isn’t in them, but in her.

____

“Well, here we are,” Regina says, grinning at Henry as they get out of the car. “We’re home.”

“You live here?” He looks back at her, his mouth gaping open as he looks back to the house. “This house is huge! It looks like a hotel!”

She chuckles quietly and follows his gaze—sometimes, it really does feel less like home and more like a hotel. In truth, the house is too big for her. Several of the rooms are empty and more just used for storage; she occupies only a select few. The several guest rooms never house guests; the meticulously landscaped backyard and comfortably-decorated patio never host company. There’s a sterility about it that never seems to go away, no matter how often she changes the décor.

“Come on,” she tells him, as she hands him two of the shopping bags from the back seat. “Let’s go in, so I can give you the grand tour.”

He smiles and follows her gingerly, skipping up the walkway and onto the porch. She turns the key in the lock and she hears him gasp as they enter the vast foyer, his eyes growing even wider. She grins and sets down the bags she carried in, taking the ones he’s carrying and setting them beside the others. Reaching for his hand, she tugs him forward. She shows him the living room and the kitchen, the dining room and the backyard before they make their way up the stairs.

“I still can’t believe this is your house,” he murmurs as his hand slides against the banister.

“It’s your house too, you know,” she tell him, chuckling softly as his eyes again widen, as if he never connected the dots between living with her and living in her house. She tugs him forward, pointing out her own bedroom and the bathroom; she shows him where the towels are kept, a couple of the guest rooms, and the study. He gasps in awe at the books on the shelves, running his fingers over the spines as he wanders. “So, I’ve gotten the impression you like adventure stories…”

“I like all kinds of stories,” he tells her.

She smiles at the sincerity in his voice. “I don’t know why I own this, but I think you might like it.” She can feel him watching her as she wanders over to a shelf, withdrawing a thin, purple book. “It’s a little old, but…”

“The Chronicles of Narnia!” He exclaims. “I was reading this before I had to change schools!” He looks up at her, his eyes flashing with excitement. “I never got to finish it. I tried getting it from the library, but you need a card to do that.”

“Well, now you have your very own copy.” She turns back to the shelf. “I think it’s a series and…I think I have the other books…somewhere in here.” From the corner of her eye she watches as he carefully runs his small hand over the worn dust jacket. “I’ll find them later,” she says, turning back to him. “Right now, there’s something else I want to show you.”

“What else is there?”

She chuckles softly, “Well, for starters, your bedroom.”

“My room?”

“Yeah,” she says as a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. “You have to sleep somewhere.” She takes a breath as she guides him back to the hallway. “I hope you don’t mind that I already have one picked out for you.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’ve never had my own room.”

She takes a breath and opens the door—while in New York, she’d given this room a great deal of thought. She chose a room that over looked the backyard. It has a large window with a seat, which seems to be a perfect little reading nook and it gets a perfect mixture of sunlight and shade. Just outside the window is a large elm tree and the walls of the room were already painted a pale shade of blue—a color painted on herself when she’d planned on adopting all those years ago. Nonetheless, she hired a contractor to touch it up, and the room is now crisp and fresh.

“Oh…my…god…” Henry murmurs in a barely audible whisper as he steps into the room and looks around.

There’s a bed with a blue patch-work quilt and a pillow shaped like Captain America’s shield. He walks past it, dragging his fingers across the edge of the bed as he notices the bookshelf beside it, filed with popular titles. She watches as he kneels down in front of it, taking the time to read every spine. He pulls out a copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and then a copy of Treasure Island, and he examines the covers before carefully pushing them back into their places. The top shelf is empty with the exception of a note “For your comic books,” it reads. He looks up at Regina and shakes his head—he’s at a loss for words.

She feels warm tears brimming in her eyes as he looks at the framed posters on the wall—one of The Avengers and another of Spiderman. On the nightstand is a lamp that shaped like Thor’s hammer and in the corner is Lego table, beneath it clear bins of color-coded legos. There’s a desk and a computer, and a shelf of various games and another of art supplies. And when he tugs open the closet, it’s filled with clothes—things they’d looked at in New York, but ultimately decided against, things he’d wanted but wouldn’t ask for.

Henry stares into it for a moment, then slowly turns to face her—and still, he struggles to find the words.

“I hope its okay that I had it decorated,” she tells him, as a slight grin forms on her lips. “When I told you there was more to your birthday gift, I wasn’t just talking about the comic book subscription.”

Still, he says nothing. He blinks a couple of time before tears fall down his cheeks, and a moment later he’s crossed the room, hugging her around the waist. She smiles as he holds on tightly, and she cups the back of his head, letting her fingers stroke his hair.

“It’s perfect,” he murmurs finally. “How did you…” He hiccups and looks up at her. “…know?”

“What do you mean?” She asks, reaching out and wiping away his tears with her thumb.

“This is all…stuff I like.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “I…paid attention.” A grin stretches over his lips and once more, he hugs her at the waist. “Does this mean you like your room?”

“I love it,” he murmurs as he hugs her tighter.

_____

She rarely cooks for more than one—and thrives on the idea of making the perfect meal to celebrate their first night at home together. Henry perches on a stool and watches as she assembles the lasagna, a favorite dish she’s perfected throughout the years. She grins as she shares her secret ingredient and he humors her by actually seeming to care that red pepper flakes give the sauce a surprise kick. She adds extra cheese to the layers and this is something that seems to draw actual excitement from him.

When the lasagna is tucked into the oven, she starts to gather the ingredients for the apple pie.

“So, what do you think of Storybrooke so far?” she asks, looking back over her shoulder from the pantry. “I know you only had a whirlwind tour, but…first impressions?”

She watches a grin pull at the corners of his mouth. “It almost doesn’t seem real.” Her own smile fades a bit and her heart skips a beat, but before she can ask anymore, Henry shrugs his shoulders. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

“A movie?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s like those little towns where everyone knows each other and everyone’s nice and nothing bad ever happens.” His grin deepens. “I like that.”

Her shoulders relax as she turns back to him, carrying an arm full of ingredients back to the counter. “I’m glad,” she tells him. “I meant what I said at Coney Island—I want you to be happy here.”

“Well, so far, I am,” he tells her, his cheeks flushing slightly as his eyes meet hers. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy so many days in a row.” She can’t help but think how sad that is, yet at the same time, it warms her heart. “Can I help?”

“You want to help with the pie?”

“If you…don’t mind,” he says, suddenly sheepish. “If I won’t be in the way.”

“Of course you won’t be in the way,” she’s quick to say, reaching for the apples. “Come here.” A relieved smile crosses his lips and he slides off the stool and she lifts him up to the stool in front of her. “Okay, so the first thing we need to do is the crust.” She hands him a bowl and a measuring cup, then slides a bag of flour toward him. “I need you to scoop out two cups,” she tells him, grinning as he plunges the cup into the bag of flour sending a white cloud up over his face.

“Oops…”

She laughs out and wipes away the thin layer of flour from his cheeks and from the bridge of his nose. “It happens to the best of bakers,” she tells him with a wink, as he drops the flour into the bowl, then more carefully scoops out the second cup. She adds the shortening and then a little water. “Now, here’s the part that I hate, but I think you’ll enjoy.” She extends a wooden spoon to him. “Mix it up and when it starts getting thick, you have to knead it.”

“What’s that?”

She grins. “Reach in and smush it together with your hands until you can make a ball.”

“Really!?”

She nods. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll cut up the apples.”

“Cool….”

“I’m glad you think so,” she tells him as she slices into the first apple, enjoying that he seems to be having a good time cooking with her, glad that perhaps they’ll be able to enjoy this on a regular basis—though it’s always been a favorite hobby, it’s something she’s never been able to share with anyone.

Henry kneads the dough and separates it, just as Regina instructed and he giggles as she sprinkles flour onto the countertop, flicking a bit in his direction as she finishes. They toss the apple slices into a bowl and she lines up the rest of the ingredients.

“A cup of starch,” she begins, watching as he carefully fills the cup and dumps it into the bowl. “Then fill half of that with the sugar.” He listens carefully, filling the cup halfway. Then comes the cinnamon and the nutmeg, followed by some brown sugar and vanilla. When it’s all mixed together, she helps him to roll out half the dough, then form it around the pie plate. “Good,” she tells him when the crust is in the plate, her heart flutters as he smiles proudly at his work. “Now are you ready for my super-secret ingredient?”

He nods, “Yeah!”

“Okay, so the way I get the crust really flaky is by adding pads of butter.” He nods and watches as she slices a stick of butter, handing the pads to him to arrange on the bottom layer of the crust. They scoop in the apple mixture and Regina rolls out the rest of the dough, cutting into strips. One by one she hands them to Henry and shows him how to layer them over the top. “This part you’ll be really good at because you have little fingers,” she tells him, as she shows him how to pinch together the top and bottom layers of crust. “Go all the way around…”

“Like this?”

“Exactly,” she tells him with a nod, swallowing the lump that begins to rise at the back of her throat. It’s the messiest pie she’s ever made, but it’s also her favorite.

“Does it go in the oven now?”

“When the lasagna’s done…”

“Oh…”She watches as he smiles down at the pie, clearly proud of his handiwork. “Do you…still have that camera?”

“The one we didn’t finish?” He nods. “Yeah, it’s in my purse.”

“Can you…take a picture?”

“Of course I can,” she says, already rounding the corner of the counter to where her bag sits, untouched and unpacked from that afternoon. She fishes out the camera, brandishing it in the air and making him giggle. She starts to take the picture, but Henry stops her before she can snap it.

“You should be in it, too.”

“Oh, yeah….I guess that would be a good idea,” she says with a soft laugh as she comes to stand next to him. “Hold up the pie, okay?” He nods and she leans in beside him and holds the camera out in front of them. She snaps the picture, then turns, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as she takes a second picture.

_____

After dinner and desert, Henry takes a bath. She changes into pajamas and finally unpacks her things from New York. She chuckles softly as she the water stop and she can hear Henry singing to himself from the bathroom—and she can’t help but think of how nice it is to have him there, how much more homey the house feels with him in it and how nice it is to have something other than her own thoughts to listen to.

Her bedroom door is open and she watches as he goes from the bathroom to his bedroom, standing in the center of it and looking around, almost as if in disbelief. He stands there for several minutes before she joins him, leaning against the doorway as she suggests that it’s time for bed.

He easily agrees, his cheeks flushing a little as he asks if she can tuck him in. Her heart feels full as he climbs into bed and she folds the blanket around his shoulders, kissing his forehead. “I’m glad you’re here, Henry,” she whispers.

“I am, too,” he says. She starts to withdraw, but he grabs onto her wrist. “Wait…”

“Is everything okay?”

He nods, “Yeah, I just..would you mind…maybe reading me a story?” Again, his cheeks flush. “I know I’m big enough to read on my own, but…I just…”

“Of course I’ll read to you.”

“Really?”

She nods, “What’ll it be?” He points to The Chronicles of Narnia, already sitting out on the nightstand. She reaches for it and sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve never done this before so, bear with me, okay?”

“I’ve never done this before either,” he admits in a small voice.

“No one ever read to you?” He shakes his head and she takes a breath, forcing a smile. “Well, then maybe this could be our part nightly routine.”

His eyes brighten and he nods. “That and making pie.”

“You liked that?” He nods again and she smiles, this time a bit more genuinely. “Well, I don’t know about nightly, but…maybe weekly.”

“Okay,” he agrees easily as he settles back against the pillows.

She reads two full chapters before his eyes start to droop as sleep beings to win over the story. He doesn’t respond when she stops reading, so she folds the corner of the page and sets the book back onto the nightstand, smiling at the thought of continuing tomorrow evening. She presses a kiss to his forehead and turns out the light, then returns to her own room where she continues to hang up clothes and sort her laundry. She laughs when she pulls out the long forgotten brand new pair of Jimmy Choos she purchased before meeting Henry—though it wasn’t more than a week ago, it already seems like a lifetime has passed since then.

When everything is unpacked and put away, she crawls into bed and turns out the light. Her eyes quickly grow heavy as she lingers on the edge of sleep, slowly drifting in and out, when she suddenly becomes aware of footsteps in the hallway. For a brief moment, she wonders if Henry’s just getting up to use the restroom, but his footsteps go back and forth, seemingly in front of her bedroom door—he’s packing there, she realizes. By the time she hears a muffled sniffle, she’s already out of bed, opening the door to him. He gasps a little and his eyes widen; and despite the darkness, she can see that they’re teary.

“Henry, what’s wrong?” She asks, reaching out and instinctively pulling him into her arms. He sniffles a couple of times as she strokes her fingers though his hair. She can feel his tears through the top of her pajamas. “Did you…have a nightmare?”

She feels him nod. “I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Henry.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sor…”

“Don’t apologize,” she says quickly, pulling back so that she can kneel in front of him. “Please don’t apologize to me.”

He nods, but he looks away. “I…I had a dream that…that…they came back for me.” He blinks and wipes the back of his hand over his eyes, pushing away his tears. “They found me and took me back.”

“Who found you?”

“My…my foster parents.” He swallows. “They were so mad…madder.”

“Oh, Henry…” She murmurs as she pulls him back to her. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

“What if they find me? What if…”

“That’s not going to happen,” she interjects. “They’re not a part of your life anymore—and they never will be.” She presses a kiss to his temple. “Not ever again.”

He nods as his tears continue, but he hugs her, his little fingers clinging to the back of her pajama top. “They were so mad at me…”

“Henry, I promise you, they can’t hurt you anymore.”

He pulls back. “What if the adoption doesn’t work? What if I have to go back?”

She sighs, “That won’t happen.”

“But, what if…”

“It won’t.”

“What if they come here and…”

“Henry, I promise you, you are safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you—not ever.” Slowly, she stands, careful not to break contact with him. “Now, come on,” she says. “You can sleep in here tonight—that is, if you want to.”

His eyes widen a little and his bottom lip catches in his teeth. “You…won’t be mad that I’m not sleeping in my new room?”

“Not at all,” she says easily, guiding him into her bedroom and helping him into bed before sliding in beside him. His small frame cuddles into her side and her arm folds around him, her heart breaking as she thinks of how few times someone has been there to comfort him, about the way he trembled and the fear that rested in his teary eyes. She pulls the blanket around him. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah,” he replies quietly, sniffling again as he bats his hand over his tear-streaked cheeks.

Her eyes close and she takes a breath, hating that there’s so much fear built up inside of him and wishing more than anything his life experiences had been different. She rubs his back until she feels his breathing steadying, his tears stopping as he starts to drift to sleep. There’s a lump at the back of her throat and she tries to push away her guilt, and instead focus on giving him a better life now, on giving what he needs to be happy. Opening her eyes, she peers down, watching as he sleeps against her and instinctively, a smile forms on her lips. “I love you, Henry.”

“I love you, too,” he murmurs in barely audible, groggy whisper.

And then, the fight against herself becomes futile and she can no longer stop her tears—but at least they’re happy tears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Henry has a nightmare, Regina realizes something important about his history and his connection to her.

“I’m sorry,” Henry says, sniffling back his tears as he stares out at the empty space in front of him. Regina feels her heart clench and a sad smile forms over her lips as she rubs her hand over Henry’s Batman pajamas, hoping that he’ll look at her and hoping that her smile will comfort him. But he doesn’t move and doesn’t acknowledge her touch; instead, he just stares at the foot of the bed as his jaw quivers. And for the very first time, she sees herself as Henry.

For two weeks now, they’ve been back in Storybrooke—and for two weeks, Henry has awoken each night from a nightmare. It’s become almost part of their nightly routine. She now sleeps with her bedroom door open, anticipating Henry’s restless sleep. For those first few nights, he’d waken her in the middle of the night and she’d invited him to lay with her until he fell back asleep. She’d stroke her fingers through his hair and rub his back, reminding him that he was no longer alone. But after a few nights, she woke first. She’d hear him beginning to cry in his sleep, low whimpers as he tossed and turned in his room down the hall. She’d get out of bed and go to his room; she’d turn on the light beside his bed and she’d sit down on the edge of his bed, slowly waking him by calling his name and stoking her fingers against his cheek, pushing away his straying tears. She was always careful not to startle him and always made sure there she was wearing a soft smile when his eyes fluttered open.

Henry never wanted to talk about it, so they’d always talk about something else. She wouldn’t push him and when attempts at conversation inevitably failed, she would offer up an additional chapter of Narnia and that seemed to soothe him. In truth, she didn’t mind the mid-night distraction. She was never one who slept easily though the night—the horrors of her past often played on repeat in her subconscious and there was a small part of her that was relieved when her thoughts were able to divert to Henry—though she wished it could be for another reason. No matter how much she loved the way he’d cuddle into her side and sigh contently as she read to him or how sweet he looked as his eyes began to flutter as he drifted back to sleep, it broke her heart that the past he’d left behind still found ways to plague him. Though, she knew better than most how difficult it was to put the past where it belonged.

That night when she’d turned on the light, his face was red and his cheeks were tear-stained. The blankets were twisted around his feet as he clutched so tightly to the flat sheet that his knuckles had turned white. His brow was furrowed and his jaw was trembling, and when she stoked her fingers lightly against his chin, he’d flinched. She’d called his name and rubbed her hands over his arms, gently shaking him to try and rouse him. Normally, his eyes would snap open at her touch, but this time, he just continued to whimper. Her heart clenched as she lay down beside him on the small twin bed and pulled him into her arms as she told him again and again that he was safe now, despite the fact that she likely couldn’t hear her. She hugged him tightly until she felt his hands fold around her, clinging to her as he tried to catch his breath.

“You’re okay,” she’d murmured, smoothing his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, Henry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I woke you up again.”

“And that’s okay,” she assures him, pulling back a little so that she can look at him. She smiles gently. “I’m always here if you need me.”

He nods and sniffles as he withdraws a bit, sitting up and hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes are distant as he stares at the foot of the bed, likely still thinking about whatever he’d been dreaming of. She hates to see this way, but she understands it.

Taking a breath, she stands up and offers her hand to him. “Come on,” she says, tapping her fingers against his arm and wiggling them impatiently. “I have an idea.” Finally, he looks at her and takes her hand and with no reluctance, he climbs out of his bed and lets her lead him downstairs to the kitchen.

She flicks on the light and pulls out a stool at the counter, letting go of his hand as he climbs into it. She can feel him watching her as she pulls out a sauce pan and gets out the milk, pulling a couple of jars from the spice cabinet. She grins back at him as she warms the milk and spoons in some honey and nutmeg.

“I’ve always had nightmares, too,” she says, dipping her finger into the milk to test its warmth before reaching into the cabinet for a mug.

“Can I have the turtle one?” She grins and nods, reaching for the requested mug, her heart warming as a smile tugs onto his face. She pours the milk into the mug, then slides it toward him and situates herself on stool adjacent to him. He takes a tentative sip, licking his lips as he sets down the mug. “It’s sweet.”

“Too sweet?”

He shakes his head, “A good amount of sweet.”

She laughs softly and takes a breath. “Have you always had nightmares?”

Looking down into his mug, she nods, “Yeah. But it never bothered anyone else before except for me.”

“You’re not bothering me, Henry.”

“I feel like I am…” He takes another, longer sip of the honeyed milk. “Where did you learn to make this?”

“When I was a little girl I had a nurse,” she begins softly. “And whenever I had nightmares, she would make it for me before putting me back to bed.”

“A nurse?” He asks, his eyes widening in concern. “Were you sick?”

“No...a nurse is like a nanny.”

“Like a babysitter?”

“Kind of,” Regina nods. “But she lived with my family. She had a room next to mine and her job was to take care of me.”

“Oh,” Henry says, his brow furrowing. “Why did you need a nurse?”

“My mother…wasn’t…” She takes a breath and shakes her head. “My mother wasn’t very interested in being a mother.”

“Oh…” He says again, considering the information—and she suspects, glad for a distraction. “Didn’t she want you?”

“She wanted me, but we had a very complicated relationship…even when I was a little girl.” She takes a breath, not quite ready to explain Cora or even how to do so, and she pushes away the painful memory that flickers in her memory of the night Cora came into the nursery and ripped out the nurse’s heart right in front of her, deciding that Regina was now too old for a nurse. She’d been about Henry’s age. “But my nurse was a sweet old woman who always knew exactly what to do and exactly what to say to make me feel better.”

“Kind of like you…” Henry says, grinning as he takes another sip.

Regina laughs out, tapping the back of her hand against his arm. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me old.” Henry just giggles in reply, taking another sip of the honeyed milk. “She also taught me that it helps to talk about your nightmares, that sometimes just having someone to listen to you makes all the difference.” Henry’s eyes cast downward and he takes a long breath, setting the mug back onto the counter as he stares down into it. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to, but I think it’ll help.”

For a moment, Henry’s quiet. He just sits quietly, rubbing his fingers against the mug. Just before she’s about to try again, his eyes cast up to meet hers. “Do you still have nightmares?”

“I do.”

“What are they about?”

“Oh,” she breathes out—she doesn’t want to lie to him, yet telling him about how she’d slaughtered villages and delighted in ripping out hearts is not an option; and thought of him knowing those things about her and looking at her as everyone else had was just too difficult to even imagine. “I just…I dream about thing from my past…painful things.”

“Me too,” Henry says with a nod. “Can I…tell you something without it hurting your feelings?”

“Of course you can.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again, chewing at his bottom lip as she nods. “I started having this one dream after I ran away,” he begins. “I would dream that my birthmother came and she found me and...and…she still didn’t want me.” He looks away, cowering down as he swallows hard. “I wasn’t good enough and…I…I…deserved to be alone. And then I’d wake up…and was still alone.”

Her breath catches in her chest as she slides her hand over his, “Oh, Henry…”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, pressing his eyes closed when her fingers form around hers.

“Sweetheart, why are you apologizing?”

“Because,” he begins, swallowing hard as he looks up at her, trying to keep his tears at bay. “The counselor I used to have to talk to sometimes said that it was just because I wanted my mom—I wanted _a_ mom. She said that it’s natural for kids who were given up for adoption to want to find their real moms.”

“Oh…”

Tears flood Henry’s eyes and he presses them shut, forcing out from the corners. “But I have a mom now—a really, really great one—and I’m still having that dream.” Regina slides off of her stool and slips her arm around Henry’s shoulders, hugging him tightly into her side—it’s the first time he’s referred to her as his mother and the moment is wrought in so much pain. “I just want to know why I wasn’t good enough,” he cries in a muffled whisper. 

“Oh, Henry. It wasn’t you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss into his hair as she pulls him closer and thinks of the last time she held him as a baby, how her heart had shattered as she placed him into the social worker’s arms and turned away, unable to watch his sweet hazel eyes follow her as she disappeared. “It wasn’t you,” she tells him. “Henry, whatever reason she had for giving you up, it wasn’t _you_.”

He sniffles, reaching up and rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, roughly pushing away his tears. “But why then?”

He looks up at her with wide eyes, so desperately wanting an answer that she can’t give him—yet so trusting that she can. Taking a breath, she loosens her arms around him and rubs her hand over his back, his sweet hazel eyes breaking her heart all over again. “I think…she just wanted to give you your best chance and…she didn’t believe that…that she was it.” Taking another breath, she musters a smile. “Maybe she was wrong,” she adds quietly, speaking for herself.

“No,” Henry murmurs, “She wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“If she hadn’t given me up, I wouldn’t be here.” A small smile twitches onto his lips. “You wouldn’t be my mom.”

Regina nods and smiles—she can’t help it. Tears brim in her eyes as she lifts him off the stool and takes him by the hand. “Sometimes things have a way of working out,” she says, feeling a rush of emotion as she thinks of Henry and the curse and the impossible situation she’s created, part of her wishing they’d stayed in New York and started a whole new life together there. “Even if it takes awhile.”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily as they start up the stairs.

“Do you want to sleep in my room again?” Taking a breath, Henry shakes his head. “Want me to sleep in your room?”

“No,” Henry says, grinning softly as they stand in the hallways between the bedrooms. “I think I’ll be okay by myself.”

Smiling, Regina nods. “Come in if you need me, okay?”

Henry nods, but he doesn’t let go of her hand. “The adoption is going to go through, right? You’re going to able to be my mom, aren’t you?”

Once more her breath catches in her chest, but this time, a warm smile forms and she finds herself nodding. “Of course it will.” Kneeling down in front of him, she kisses his forehead. “I promise it’s all going to work out—and just so you know, I really like being your mom.” Henry grins as she kisses his cheek. “Want me to tuck you in again?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay,” she says, standing up and giving his hand quick squeeze. “If you change your mind…”

“I know,” he nods, giving her a small smile and making her heart flutters at the confidence in his voice. She says goodnight as she watches him go back to his bedroom and crawl back into his bed. He reaches over and turns out the light, and she takes a few steps forward, leaning against the frame of his door, standing there for awhile, watching as his eyes close and watching as he falls asleep. 

“I love you, Henry. I hope you know that,” she whispers into the darkness. “I’ve always loved you.”

She stands there a few minutes more before returning to her own bedroom, flicking on the light and closing the door.

Moving toward the closet, she pushes back the clothes and shoes, her fingers patting along the top shelf until they touch upon a cardboard box. Inhaling sharply, she slowly exhales the breath and pulls the box toward her. Smiling sadly, she looks at it—it’s covered in dust, but she can still read his name in her writing and she vividly remembers the day she wrote it. Tears well in her eyes as she remembers the day she’d returned home from Boston without him. She remembers how she’d stayed at home that day and the next, and then next one after that, not wanting to see anyone and not wanting to explain because those things would make his absence real.

In those days, she fell into a deep mourning—mourning the loss of the wiggly baby boy who’d filled her heart a love she never knew she could feel, whose hazel eyes made her feel like anything were possible, whose life mattered to her more than her own. At that time, she’d reasoned that giving him up was the right choice—someone as damaged as she couldn’t be trusted with something so precious. After all, everything she touched, she tainted; and everything she loved was broken beyond repair.

Sitting down on the chaise longue near the window, she swallows hard as she slowly lifts the lid off of the box. Her heart clenches as she pulls out the tiny blue and white hat and the even tinier little socks he’d worn on the day she’d brought him home. There’s a pacifier with a red train on it and a little stuffed bear she’d bought at the airport on their way back to Storybrooke. Beneath those things are a stack of papers, folded and paper-clipped together—and her brow furrows as she tries to remember them. Slowly, she pulls the paper clip off and fans them out on the bed. Her heart aches as she pulls out a photograph—the one photograph she kept of the two of them together, a photograph she took herself he as lay sleeping against her chest.

“Oh, Henry,” she murmurs, as her fingers rub over his image. “I’m so sorry, Henry…” 

Unsigned adoption papers and some notes about proper infant care supplied by the adoption agency are among the papers, but a sealed envelope catches her eye. She picks it up and tries to remember it; but she can’t and it bears no markings that give her any clue of its contents.

She slips her fingers under the still-sealed flap, ripping the seal and reaching inside of the envelope. The papers thick are folded together and when she unfolds them, her stomach drops—and then suddenly, she remembers requesting the information eight years before—information she’d received, but never opened. She’d made her decision before it had even arrived, and opening it afterward felt pointless. Nonetheless, she couldn’t part with the envelope, so she’d tossed it inside of her “Henry box” where it could be kept safe with all the other things she never planned to look at.

Clearing her throat, her mouth feels dry as she stares at Henry’s birth certificate—and on it, his birthmother’s name in the woman’s own handwriting. She swallows hard and her hands begin to shakes as she the other papers fall away and her eyes linger over “Emma Swan.”

Emma, she thinks. The name of Snow White’s daughter; the name of the Savior.

Her stomach churns at the realization and possibilities of what this could mean swim through her head; her body feels numb. Taking a long breath, she slowly exhales it, then takes another breath as she tries to regain her composure. The tears welling in her eyes begin to fall and she does nothing to stop them. She thinks of Henry sleeping soundly down the hall, and she thinks of his nightmares; she thinks of irony that she would end up with the Savior’s son—not once but twice. He was the baby who’d been placed in her arms all those years before and he was the boy she’d she’d happened upon that cold summer evening; and that meant that the boy she would do anything for was meant to be her undoing.

Folding the birth certificate back up, she collects the rest of the papers and stuffs them back into the envelope. She paperclips the papers and the photograph together, momentarily allowing her eyes to rest on baby Henry’s chubby cheeks before she gathers the socks and hat and pacifier, returning everything to the box. Pushing her tears away, she feels her jaw stiffen as she returns the box to her closet and with a shaky hand, she reaches for the phone, dialing the number of Henry’s social worker.

It doesn’t matter to her that it’s well past one in the morning and she doesn’t care that he’s likely waking him—she needs to do this now before the full weight of what this will mean sets in. Her stomach churns as the phone rings and she taps her foot impatiently as she thinks of Henry—she won’t go back on her word and she won’t make the same mistakes she made before. In this moment, she has a second chance—ironically, it’s the chance she thought the curse would bring her—and she won’t allow her fear to waste it. Henry is too important.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Henry and Regina prepare for Henry’s first day of school in Storybrooke, the adoption becomes official. 
> 
> Also in this chapter: not everyone in Storybrooke reacts positively to Regina adopting Henry and Robin defends her; and Henry tries to play matchmaker.

“I’m _never_ going to get this,” Henry sighs in frustration as he tosses down his pencil and slumps in his chair. He takes a few quick breaths and Regina can tell he’s on the verge of tears and it makes her heart clench in her chest—it’s so difficult to watch him struggle this way, to watch a boy who is usually so curious and determined completely shut down and not even want to try.  

A few days after returning to Storybrooke, she’d registered him for school—and he’d seemed tentatively excited about the prospect of starting; though, she now suspects his excitement was less for school itself than it was for a sense of normalcy that he’d always wanted but could never really have. They’d bought his uniform and all of the necessary supplies, and spent a day running errands collecting everything from dress socks to brightly colored notebooks. When they’d gotten home, she’d made him try on the uniform _one more time_ simply because he looked so cute in the sports coat and tie and he’d half-heartedly humored her, trying on the various combinations of uniform choices until it was dinner time. After dinner, they’d spread out all the supplies, labeling the folders and notebooks and taking things like scissors and glue out of their packages and nestling them into his crayon box.  Everything was tucked away into his new Captain America backpack and put in his closet for safe-keeping until school started in September.

Then, his entrance exam scores came back—and there was a note from the principal asking for a meeting. Regina hadn’t told Henry about the meeting and arranged for Granny to watch him, buying him a plate of onion rings and a milkshake to keep him occupied and out of the way while she was at the elementary school. The principal noted the obvious gaps in Henry’s education and assured her that the school had the necessary programs in place to bring Henry up to grade-level by the end of third grade. While he’d actually scored far above grade-level in reading and vocabulary, it was obvious that he struggled in math and inconsistent patterns of school hadn’t helped. He gave her a flyer for their after-school tutoring program and a list of materials she could purchase and use to work with Henry before the year started. She purchased the items that same evening and much to Henry’s dismay, practicing math problems became part of their daily routine. She tried to make it fun, turning the workbook into a series of challenges and games, but no matter what, Henry struggled and almost always ended their little sessions in tears.  

“I think it’s time for a break, anyway,” she says as she reaches out and runs her fingers through the front of his hair. “We’ll pick up again after dinner, okay?” Henry just nods as he stares down at the long division problems they’ve been working on for the better part of an hour. Leaning over, Regina closes the workbook and pushes it away from him before reaching out and lifting his chin with her fingers. “You’ll get it eventually,” she assures him before pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “I promise.”

 “It doesn’t feel like it,” he murmurs in barely a whisper as his eyes fall away. “I’ve never been good at math. My foster dad used to make fun of me for it. She was really good at it.”

Regina feels her jaw tense at the thought of that. She takes a breath and pulls away from him, not wanting him to sense her tension and misunderstand it. “Some things just take time,” she says, leaning back in her chair as Henry just stares at the table space where the workbook had been. “Hey, why don’t you take your mind off long division for awhile and go get then mail. Then you can help me make dinner.” 

At the mention of dinner, Henry perks up, finally looking up at her on his own accord. “What are we having tonight?”

 “Chicken piccata.”

Henry blinks. “I don’t know what that is.” 

Regina just laughs, gently tapping the back of her hand against his arm. “Go on. Grab the mail and then you’ll find out.”

Taking a breath, she stands and collects the workbook and pencil, the sharpener and eraser and dusts off the table, making a mental note to run the vacuum underneath the table to collect the eraser bits when Henry goes upstairs for his shower. She goes to the kitchen, dropping the items onto the counter before going to the refrigerator and pulling out the thawed chicken and a bag of lemons. Before she can even set them down on the island counter, she hears the front door slam and Henry’s footsteps clattering toward the kitchen.

“Hey, mom?” She hears Henry call as he runs toward the kitchen, her heart warming as a smile edges onto her lips—he started calling her that about a week before, and every time he does, she has the same reaction. “Mom, something came from New York.” 

“Oh yeah?” She asks, her eyebrow arching as he enters the kitchen. Her eyes fall slowly from Henry to manila envelope in his hands and a slow smile works its way over her lips as her heart begins to pound in anticipation—the adoption papers have arrived.

Though she’s not proud of it, life in this world has taught her that a person with her wealth and position can exercise a certain amount of power, and with power comes influence—and that influence can be used to bend rules and speed up processes. She used that to her advantage and she’d had no qualms about it. The night Henry had confided in her about his nightmares—confiding his fears of not being wanted and never feeling good enough—she’d made a phone call to his social worker and by the end, it was agreed that his adoption would be pushed through immediately. And finally, for the first time in his life he’d have a sense of stability. And while she wasn’t sure that that would stop his nightmares, she hoped that he’d find comfort in it when he woke. 

“Can you open it for me?” Regina asks, pretending to be too busy with the chicken to open it.

From the corner of her eye she watches as Henry takes a breath and slips his fingers beneath the seal, slowly tearing the top of the envelope open. He reaches in and unfolds the paper, his hands trembling as his breath hitches in his throat as he reads over the first line. He closes his eyes and swallows hard, and she hears him inhale sharply as his eyes flutter back open, this time, they’re filled with tears. Again, his breath hitches as his eyes scan over the rest of the letter, then he slowly reaches for the second sheet—his amended birth certificate, baring his new name. Slowly, he looks up at her and his lips purse, but no words come. He shakes his head and looks back at the certificate, and then back to her as his breath again hitches in his throat—he’s at a loss for words.

She feels her own tears beginning to rise as she turns toward him and kneels down. His eyes look directly into hers and without saying anything, he flings himself forward, throwing himself into her arms and link his own arms around her neck. He holds on tightly as her arms instinctively fold around him, hugging him close as he begins to cry. She presses a soft kiss to the top of his head as her own tears begin to fall.

 “So, I guess its official then,” she whispers, as she rests her cheek atop his head, holding him as he cries. “You’re stuck with me.”

She feels him laugh before he pulls back slightly, his hands still clutching the sleeves of her shirt. “Yeah,” he says as a lopsided grin forms on his lips. “I guess so.”

“So, I think we should celebrate this,” Regina says, laughing a little as she reaches out and wipes away his tears with her thumbs. “Do you think we should celebrate?”

He nods, sniffling back his tears as his grin deepens. “I think we should celebrate.” Henry pauses. “With pizza.”

“That’s all?” She laughs. “That’s the best you can do?”

“A movie, too,” he adds quickly, “ _The Incredible Hulk_ just game out on DVD.”

“Pizza and a movie,” Regina says with a definitive nod, “I can do that.” Leaning in, she presses a quick kiss to Henry’s forehead. “You’re sure easy to please.”

Henry giggles as she gets to her feet. “Can we…make the pizza?”

She turns, looking down at him, “You…want to make it instead of order it? We don’t have any pepperoni and we can’t stuff the crust with cheese. And no matter what, I can’t figure out the mixture of spices Granny puts on those breadsticks.”

He nods and shrugs his shoulders, “That’s okay. I really like cooking with you. It’s kind of…our thing.” 

She can’t stop the smile that forms on her lips and she nods toward the cabinet. “Go grab the card with the dough recipe on it and I’ll put away the stuff for the chicken piccata.” Henry nods excitedly and she watches for a moment as he climbs onto one of stools and opens the cabinet, thumbing through the cards in her recipe box until he finds the one for the pizza crust. He smiles triumphantly when he finds it, then carefully puts the box back in its place. Her heart flutters as she watches him grin down at the card—and she can’t help but think that he’s the most precious thing she’s ever had and she loves him more than she ever knew was possible.

He jumps down from the stool and runs back to her, smiling so brightly that it almost breaks her heart—because the security she’s given him is fragile and he has no idea. Taking a breath, she pushes those thoughts away and smiles back, not wanting anything to ruin this moment.

_____

On the last official day of summer vacation, they find themselves at the park enjoying the warm summer air and the last bit of freedom before the school year starts and things inevitably become more chaotic. Regina settles back on the bench, watching Henry play on the jungle gym—all afternoon he’s been intent on mastering the monkey bars and she’s intent on ensuring that he doesn’t fall. Though she’s settled down considerably over the course of the hour they’ve been at the park, each time he swings from bar to bar, her heart leaps and every time he falls into the sand, her heart drops into her stomach and she has to fight the urge to run to him and scoop him up and just to be sure that he’s okay.

“Roland! Roland, slow down!”   

She turns at the sound of a man’s voice and looks in his direction, watching as a curly-haired little boy runs toward the playground. He stops beside the bench where she sits, shaking his head as he smiles down at her. “It’s all fun and games until he skins his knees.” 

Regina grins and nods, “They think they’re unbreakable.”

“Indeed they do,” he returns with a smile. “Is that your boy?”

She nods proudly, “Yes—and every time he climbs up onto those things, my stomach flips.”

He laughs and nods, and then extends his hand. “Robin Locksley.”

“Regina Mills,” she says, as she shakes his hand and smiles politely.

“Oh, right—the mayor—I’m sorry, I should have known that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Is that the boy you adopted? He certainly is a lucky one.” Her eyebrow arches in reply and he smiles awkwardly, “I read about it in the paper. I—I’m sorry if…”

“It’s really okay,” she replies with an easy nod and a smile as she glances back to the playground, her smile deepening as she watches Henry reach the other side of the monkey bars. He smiles proudly at the accomplishment—and then, to her dismay, he starts all over again.

 “Would you mind if I sat down?”

“Oh…” she murmurs, smiling tentatively as she nods, “Not at all.” He smiles back at her as he sits down at her side—and for a brief moment, she’s distracted by the smell of forest. She smiles faintly, enjoying it more than she should. “You…work at the sporting goods store on Main Street, don’t you?”

“I do,” Robin says as he settles on the bench as an amused grin stretches over his lips. “You’ve shopped there?”

“No, I haven’t,” she says slowly. “I’m not really…an outdoorsy kind of girl.” She pauses and chuckles softly to herself. “We pass it all the time and I recognized your son…from the window.”

“He loves to play in those displays,” he tells her with a small laugh. “He’s especially fond of the kayak.”

“As is my son.”              

“Is he? You should bring him by then—he can sit in it and pretend he’s having an adventure on Lake Champlain, discovering the new world.”

“Henry would… _love_ that.”

“So, unlike you, he’s fond of the great outdoors?” 

“He’s fond of any sort of adventure,” Regina says. 

“Well, then you really have to bring him by--we have archery lessons and survival skills classes, and other sorts of kids classes that I’m sure an adventurous kid like Henry would enjoy…though, you might be bored to tears, not being outdoorsy and all.”

At that she laughs out, surprised at how easy it is to talk to this man—a man who is practically a stranger, a man who ordinarily she wouldn’t have given the time of day. She’s never been one to make small-talk, never one to be overly social—the fact that that it was pointless to do so in a place like Storybrooke was only a small part of the reason. Yet somehow this seems worthwhile.   

_____

Regina stands outside of the elementary school in a sea of parents, ringing her hands as she waits impatiently for Henry to emerge after his first day of school. She looks around and everyone else seems so relaxed, yet she’s a mess—though, she ventures they’ve all had more practice at this. Since finding Henry that night in New York, this is the most time they’ve spent apart. Aside from the occasional meeting when he stays with her secretary or at the diner with Granny, he’s always with her. 

That morning she’d awoken early and from the moment her eyes fluttered open—a solid hour before her alarm was set to go off—she’d been a complete wreck. She tried to hide it, but Henry had noticed and when she knelt down to tie his tie, he’d placed his small hand on her shoulder and smiled sweetly, reminding her that it was just school and it was only a half-day—besides that, he’d done this before and he’d be okay. She’s smiled back and kissed his cheek and he promised that after school, he’d tell her everything about his day. At first, the comment had very much seemed for her benefit, but as the day went on, she realized it as likely just as much for him as it was for her; it wasn’t likely that anyone had ever cared enough to ask about his day—and it made her miss him even more. 

Finally, Henry emerges from the school and she watches as his eyes scan the crowd, looking for her. She waves and he spots her, smiling brightly as he waves back and runs in her direction. She laughs as he slams into her legs and wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her quickly before taking her hand and letting her lead him away from the crowd.

“So, how was it?”

“It was…good,” Henry says easily. “I have my own desk with my name on it and my own cubby to keep my stuff in,” he says, his words rattling off quickly. “Since it was a half day we didn’t have recess or lunch, so that was good because I was worried about that since I don’t know anyone yet. And math was really short, so that was good, too. My teacher is Ms. Blanchard,” he says, swinging their hands back and forth as they walk toward Main Street. “She’s nice, but she’s…kind of weird.”

A smirk forms on Regina’s lips, “Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well, she talks to birds and that kind of reminds of this lady who used to sit in Central Park and have full conversations with pigeons,” Regina laughs out, but before she can say anything, Henry continues. “And she doesn’t like apples…which is weird because all teachers like those.”

Again, Regina laughs harder than she should. “So I was thinking,” she begins, letting her thoughts drift away from Mary Margaret Blanchard and back to Henry. “I took the rest of the day off, so how about we have lunch at Granny’s then we can go home and…” 

“Please don’t say practice math.” 

“How about only for a half an hour today?”

“Fine,” Henry says with a sigh. “It’s better than a whole hour, I guess.”   

“So, if an hour is 60 minutes, and we’re dividing it in half…”

“Mooooom…”

“What?”

“Please don’t ruin lunch with math.” 

“Fine,” she says as they turn down Main Street. “What I was _going to say_ was when we get home maybe we can be lazy for awhile...get into our pajamas and watch movie.” She grins. “Maybe even have popcorn for dinner.”

“Really?” Henry asks, his eye growing wide. “You’d let me have _popcorn_ for _dinner_?”

Regina pulls the diner door open, “Well considering you usually eat enough food to feed a small village when we come here, I think it’s a definite possibility that dinner could be more of a snack.”

Henry laughs as Ruby flags them toward an open booth—the diner is crowded and for a few minutes, their conversation halts as Henry scans the menu. Though he hasn’t said it, it seems that he’s determined to try every item on the menu and when he’s settled on his choice, he grins up at her.

“What movie do you want to watch?”

She shrugs her shoulder, “I don’t know. I figured I’d let you choose.”

“But I always choose.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’d enjoy the heart-wrenching love stories that…” She stops when Henry’s nose crinkles. “Exactly...”

“What about Indiana Jones?”

“Oh, straying away from the superhero movies?”

Henry giggles and shrugs, “It’s less about _super_ heroes and more about…heroes, or maybe even just people doing heroic things.” Her brow furrows, somewhat surprised by such a nuanced statement from an eight year old. “Besides, he has a whip and a cool hat.”

“Well, well, well. Look who it is…” Regina feels her jaw tense as she looks up to see Graham standing at the table. “Here I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”

Her shoulders square as she offers him a disinterested sigh. “That’s hardly true. You knew I was back from New York.”

“Ah yes—I had to hear from Granny that you’d finally returned from your week-long _shopping_ get away.” He pauses. “And I also had to hear from Granny that you’d returned with…some rather fascinating new belongings.”

“Is that supposed to be me?” Henry asks, his brow furrowing and his face scrunching as he looks between Regina and Graham. “If it is, you can just say it…”

She offers him a tight smile and a curt nod as her eyes glance toward Henry. “This _isn’t_ a good time, Graham.”

“I say that it is. Who knows when I’ll be able to catch you next?” He shrugs his shoulders, “After all, you’ve been so busy playing house that you’ve barely even been at your office and you haven’t returned a single call or text.” 

“I can work at home,” she counters, her eyes narrowing as once more her jaw tightens. “And I hardly owe you an explanation.” She pauses and her voice lowers, as she stares at him with hard eyes. “You made that quite clear before I went to New York. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to have lunch with my son.”

For a moment, Graham says nothing. He only scoffs and shakes his head as his jaw tightens with indignation. “You know, Regina…” 

“I believe she said this wasn’t a good time.”

Regina’s eyes shift past Graham to see Robin standing behind him, his arms crossed over his chest with Roland standing beside him, holding onto his pant leg. His jaw is stern and his eyes narrow when Graham turns to face him.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Graham says dismissively.

Robin shrugs, “Maybe not, but you’re making a scene public place and the lady very politely asked you to stop.”

“Lady,” he scoffs. “That’s hilarious.”

Robin takes a short step in, then stops and Regina watches his jaw tense as his voice drops to a loud whisper. “Come on, man. She’s here trying to have lunch with her kid.”

“Her kid, huh?” Graham laughs. “You’re a real joker. Just because she brought home a new pet-project doesn’t make her a…”

“Okay, sheriff,” Granny interjects coolly. “It’s time to go.”

Graham’s eyes widen as he turns to Granny. “You don’t even like her.” 

Slowly, Regina glances to Henry, watching as he watches the scene unfolding with concerned eyes. She can’t quite tell what he’s thinking or feeing and she hopes she doesn’t have to explain too much about who Graham is to her—because, in all honesty, she’s not sure who Graham is or was to her. And she certainly hopes that he hasn’t taken anything Graham has said to heart. 

“Yeah, well I like _her kid_ ,” Granny counters. “He doesn’t need to listen to you berating his mother and neither do the rest of my customers who are just here trying to enjoy their lunch.”

With an exasperated sigh, Graham leaves and she momentarily wonders why he was so upset—after all, he’d been the one to end things between them before she went to New York. But she doesn’t linger on it more than a moment; instead she turns her attention to Henry.

“Are you okay?” Henry nods easily and slowly, she turns her eyes to Robin. “Um…thank you,” she says, unsure of what to say to him and still completely caught off guard by his defense of her. “You didn’t have to…do that.” 

“Well, he didn’t seem to be hearing you, so I thought, perhaps, he’d hear me.”

She nods, “Well…thank you. I…um…appreciate it.”

Before anyone can say anything else, Granny returns with a bag in-hand. “This one’s on the house, Locksley.”

“Oh, but…”

“But nothing,” Granny insists. “Take it and enjoy your lunch with your boy.”

Robin smiles and offers her a sincere thank you before turning his attention back to Regina and Henry. “Well, then. I suppose this is goodbye for now. I hope the two of you have a pleasant afternoon,” he says, his blue eyes sparking as he gives her a quick smile and wink. Regina smiles uncomfortably, wondering what exactly ‘for now’ means and what the wink was all about.

“Wait,” she hears Henry says, looking up with wide eyes as Robin turns back and Henry grins. “Do you have plans tonight?” Robin looks from Henry to Regina and a grin tugs at the corner his mouth. “We’re watching Indiana Jones tonight. Do you and Roland want to come over?” Regina feels her stomach drop and her mouth goes dry and no matter how hard she tries, she can’t push out the words to stop all of this. “We’re also having popcorn.”

For a second, Robin says nothing. He glances quickly at Roland, whose large brown eyes are wide as he nods excitedly at the prospect, and then his grin widens. “We’d love to…if it’s okay with your mother.”

“Uhm, y-eah. It’s…fine with me,” Regina barely chokes out.

“Great. I’ll bring dinner. What time should we be there?”

“Oh, that’s not…necessary…I…”

“Six,” Henry says decisively.

“Roland and I will be there,” Robin says, grinning as he looks between them. “I’ll see you two later.”

Regina can only nod as she watches them go and her eyes widen as they shift back to Henry. “What are you doing!?”

“He likes you,” Henry says with a giggle. “And I think you like him.”

“How would you know something like that?” 

“I’m eight,” Henry says shrugging his shoulders. “I know about things like that.”

Regina can’t help the smirk that forms over her lips. “Do you?”

“I spent a lot of my time people-watching in New York,” Henry says with a nod, his expression turning serious. “He really does like you.”

“And suppose I don’t like him?”

“But you do.” A small smile edges onto Henry’s lips. “He’s the man who held the door open for us.”

“Holding a door open does mean…”

“But he’s the one who smelled like forest,” Henry interjects. “And every time we walk by the sporting goods store, he looks at you…like…really looks at you and he smiles, even though you can’t see him.” Regina’s eyes narrow—she’s never once noticed that. “Besides, I saw you guys talking in the park yesterday.”

“Henry, that doesn’t mean…”

 “Take the kid’s advice,” Granny cuts in as she pulls out her notebook and clicks the top of her pen. “You could certainly do worse than Robin Locksley, Madam Mayor.”

Regina’s mouth drops open and Henry giggles as Granny looks at her with a raised eyebrow—and then she finds herself laughing a little because she did enjoy chatting with him in the park and he does seem to genuinely like her. And though she’s not sure she wants to get involved with anyone, she has to admit—life would be a lot less lonely with a friend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Roland join Henry and Regina for dinner; and Robin helps Regina to come up with a plan to help Henry to feel more at ease about starting school.

Regina emptied the freshly popped kernels of popcorn into a large bowl and set it in front of Henry, smiling gently and trying to pretend the thought of ‘company’ didn’t have her stomach churning and her heart racing. In the all the years she lived in Stroybrooke, there’d been very few instances she’d had people over—and if she excluded her on-again, off-again, relationship with Graham, she wouldn’t even need the digits from the second hand. There was obviously the problem of the curse—never want to be too close to anyone, knowing their memories would just be reset within in a year and any sort of relationship she’d managed to build would simply be wiped away and then, there was always the worry that if she let anyone get too close, they might discover her best kept secret and her entire would begin to unravel. And then, there was the problem that once they arrived, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them. So, it was simply easier, for everyone involve, for her to keep people at an arm’s length.  

 “I thought all you had to do to make popcorn was…pop it,” Henry says, fidgeting on ‘his’ stool at the counter as Regina reaches for two baking sheets, then slides them toward him. “And I thought it came in a bag.”

“It does sometimes,” Regina says, looking up at him. “But I like to pop it on the stove.”

“Why? Is it better this way?”

“I don’t know…it’s just the way I’ve always done it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ve never actually bought the bagged kind and I like making my own seasonings.” She grins as he reaches for one of the pieces and pops it into his mouth. “I think I’d get bored if I could only have butter on my popcorn.” 

“I didn’t even know there were seasonings for popcorn,” he tells her, looking up at her with wide eyes, as if they were discussing something of the utmost gravity. “I just thought it came with butter already on it.”

She can’t help but smile at him—she loves seeing him this way, so innocently interested in something so simple, like popcorn. All too often, the weight of the world rests on his shoulders and he’s always worried that he’ll do or say something wrong and will unwittingly ruin the good things he has—because all too often, that’s exactly how the world has worked for him. So the moments that he’s able to let his guard down and just be a little kid warm her heart and make her believe in second chances.

“So, when this is done, we’ll see what kind you like more—this kind or the bagged kind.” He smiles when she winks at him. “But you won’t be able to do that if you don’t spread out the popcorn.”

Regina can’t help but laugh as Henry’s hand plunges into the bowl before rising high above the baking sheet as he drops the popcorn down, giggling as the fluffy pieces bounce and scatter. She grabs a few items out of the refrigerator and then goes to the pantry, shaking her head as her smile deepens when Henry adds, what she imagines is, the sound of an airplane to his already dramatic popcorn-scattering tactic. 

“So, we’re going to make two kinds–cheese and peanut butter.”  

“Peanut butter popcorn? That sounds _so good_.”    

“It _is_ good,” she tells him, dropping a kiss atop his head as she reaches for two bowls. “Finish spreading that popcorn out and I’ll let you mix the peanut butter sauce on the stove.” 

Henry nods, dipping both hands into the bowl of popcorn as Regina scoops out a cup of honey. She watches as his small hands pat the popcorn as he peers into the bowl to ensure that it’s empty, then smiles up at her, proud of his handiwork. She spoons in some sugar and nods to the jar of peanut butter. “Grab a spoon,” she instructs. “We need two cups.” She grins as Henry reaches for the spoon and jar, scooping out two heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter. Upon her instruction, he drops it into the sauce pan with the sugar and honey, licking the spoon as Regina moves to the stove.

She waves him over and helps him up onto the countertop as she ignites the burner. He watches carefully, as she stirs a few times, then pushes the wooden spoon toward him. “Can you keep stirring?” Henry nods and takes the spoon, continuing to move it in the same direction that she’d been stirring. “Stir until its smooth, okay?”

“Like soup?”  

“Yeah,” she replies, laughing a little as she opens a bag of cheese. “Then we’ll add the secret ingredients.” Henry grins up at her before peering down into the sauce pan. From the corner of her eye, she watches him dip his finger into the peanut butter mix, shaking her head his eyes widen and he does it again, this time scooping up as much as his index finger will hold. Regina turns her attention back to the popcorn recipe, mixing the cheddar with the parmesan, before scattering it over the other sheet of popcorn, sliding it into the oven as she checks on Henry and the peanut butter sauce. 

Her stomach flops a little as it occurs to her, that perhaps, she should have gone with a flavoring that was a bit on the blander side—she never asked if Roland was allergic to anything and she has no idea what their food preferences are. But of course, when Robin offered to bring dinner, he didn’t ask any questions either. She glances up at the clock and takes a breath—its well after five-thirty and Robin and Roland will be arriving soon and she wonders if it’s too late to cancel.

“Should we put in the secret ingredients now?” Henry asks, looking up at her and brining her back into the present moment. “The peanut butter’s soupy now.”

She looks back at him and nods, pushing away the thoughts of their pending dinner guests and reaching into the cabinet above the stove. She leans up onto the tips of her toes, grabbing a new bottle of vanilla and some sea salt. She hands the vanilla to Henry, laughing as he pulls off the seal and inhales deeply.   

“How much?”

“Just a few splashes,” she tells him, shrugging her shoulders as she pours some of the salt into her palm. “But you can’t really have too much vanilla.” She grins, “On the count of three, okay?” Henry nods and grins as they both slowly count to three—and then on cue, Regina drops in the salt and he pours in the vanilla. “Another stir, okay?” She tells him, turning off the heat and bending to check on the cheddar popcorn in the oven. Henry nods and swishes the spoon a few more times, as Regina turns off the oven. Withdrawing the spoon, he licks of back of his and again, his hazel eyes widen. “How is it?” she laughs.

“Even _better_ than before we added the secret ingredients,” he tells her, swinging his feet back and forth as his ankles tap against the lower cabinets. “I’m really excited.”

“For the popcorn?”  

He nods, “And dinner. And the movie...and the company.”

“For the company, huh?” Henry just nods and continues to kick his feet back and forth as he licks to peanut butter-covered spoon. “Why?”

“Well, I never really had friends,” Henry begins, still focused on the spoon. “And Roland’s funny. Even though he’s a lot younger, he knows about all sorts of cool things like shooting arrows and climbing ropes.” Henry shrugs, “And he likes the same comics that I like.” He smiles up at her as he drops the spoon into the sink. “I wish he were in my class.”

“I’m sure you’ll make friends,” she says, his words tugging at her heartstrings. 

“Eventually, maybe,” Henry says, smiling faintly. “But not tomorrow.” Before she can say anymore, Henry changes the subject, his hazel eyes brightening as he looks back at her. “Are you excited about our company?”  

“Honestly?” She asks, leaning against the counter as she lifts the saucepan from the stove. “I’m kind of nervous about it. I don’t really have many friends,” she tells him—not wanting to get into the details of that. “So, I usually don’t have people over.”

 “Oh,” he murmurs, his brow creasing. “I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to be your friend. You’re pretty and you’re nice. You’re a really good cook and you have a fun laugh.”

Her eyebrow arches, “A fun laugh?”

Giggling, Henry nods. “It’s the kind of laugh that makes other people smile.” He shrugs and hops off the counter, watching as Regina drizzles the peanut butter sauce over the popcorn. When she turns to rinse out the saucepan, she catches a glimpse of him stealing a piece and shakes her head. “Who was that guy?” Regina turns back, watching as Henry licks his fingers and stares up at her curiously. “The one from the diner…”

“Um…that was Graham. He’s the sheriff.”  

“Is he your friend?”

“No,” Regina replies, shaking her head as she smiles awkwardly, unsure of how to categorize their relationship with Graham and especially unsure of how to describe it to an eight-year. “He’s not my friend.”  

“Were you ever friends?”

“No. We weren’t. I thought we could be, but…no.”

“Oh…well…he seemed like a jerk, anyway.”   

Before she can say anymore, the doorbell rings and Henry darts toward the door and Regina feels her stomach drop. Nonetheless, she takes a breath and pushes herself forward, into the foyer where Roland and Robin are standing with Henry. Henry’s talking a mile a minute, telling them all about the popcorn that’s cooling in the kitchen. Regina feels her cheeks flush as Robin looks up at her, his eyes quickly looking her up and down before giving her a lopsided smile and holding up a brown grocery bag—and once more, her stomach flops as she rings her hands nervously together. Her lips purse as she tries to find her voice, but before she can say anything, Henry’s taking Roland by the hand and leading him up the stairs, chattering on about an Avengers Lego set that’s in his room.    

Regina offers Robin a tight smile as she steps forward and takes the bag, shutting the door and inviting him in.

“I figured we could make dinner before the movie,” he tells her as she peers into the bag. “I considered making it beforehand, but…plastic-y cheese and cold fries hardly seemed like the way to make a good impression.” She finds herself laughing as she leads him into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter top. Her breath catches and she finds herself inhaling involuntarily, taking in the subtle scent of evergreen, as he empties the grocery bag. “I figured we could make the boys burgers and fries and…” He stops, laughing a little, “And since you don’t seem like a burgers-and-fries kind of girl, I figured we could have something a little more…refined.”

Her eyebrow arches as he pulls out a package wrapped in white paper and she peers down at it, pleasantly surprised that find the label revealing its contents to be nice cuts of steak. She grins and a moment later, he pulls the last of the items from the bag—a zucchini and a squash, and something that looks like butter rolled in wax paper.

“Do you have grill? It’s not necessary, but…”   

“I do,” she says, moving around the counter and bending to retrieve the grill attachment for the stove. She grins as she hauls the cast iron grill to the counter. “Not an outdoor one…”

“Because you’re not an outdoorsy kind of girl,” he says with a grin, reminding her of that afternoon a few days before, when they’d talked on the bench as their sons played. “I figured.”

She grins back, “Do you…need anything else?”  

“Just a bit of rosemary, if you have it. I thought I tossed some into the bag, but…”

“I do,” she says, cutting in and finding her voice less cautious. “I grow my own—or would you prefer the dried kind.”

“Oh, the fresh rosemary would be perfect,” he tells her. She takes a breath, feeling his eyes on her as she goes to the refrigerator and bends to grab a few sprigs of rosemary. When she turns, she can see Robin’s moved the grill to the stove and is turning on the gas. She watches as his hands hover over it. The meat is already unpackaged—two burger patties and the steaks sit beside him. “Your kitchen is quite impressive.”  

“Well, I spent a lot of time in here,” she tells him as he turns to face her.

“You like to cook…”

“I do,” she says with a nod. “Before Henry, it was something to do pass the time and now, it’s something he enjoys doing with me.” She watches a grin forms over Robin’s lips. “I assume you do, too?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “Though my son’s tastes and my own are…quite different. So, I find I am eating a lot of fish sticks and macaroni these days.”    

Regina laughs and hands him the rosemary, thinking of Henry and their road trip back to Storybrooke and the list of fast food places he’d insisted she try. “In the past month, my food choices have changed…considerably.”

“Having a child around will do that,” he says, turning back to the grill and drizzling olive oil half of it.

“Can I…help with something?” She asks, shifting awkwardly as she stands beside him. “Cutting up the vegetables or something?”

“Sure,” he nods. “I already cut the potatoes for the fries, but the squash and zucchini could be sliced up.” Regina nods and smiles, glad to have a distraction for her nervous hands. “Don’t tell Roland, but my fries aren’t really…fries.” She grins back at him from over her shoulder. “He’s also still unaware that potatoes are vegetables.”

“I’ll never tell,” Regina laughs as she cuts into the zucchini. “Henry will eat _anything_.”  

“Ah, so there’s hope that Roland will grow out of the ‘I won’t eat this unless it’s fried or covered in cheese’ phase.”

“Perhaps,” she says with a slight chuckle. “Though, Henry might just be humoring me. Our relationship is still…so new.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“Well, he’s only been a part of my life for…about a month,” she tells him, unable to believe it’s only been a few weeks since bringing Henry home from New York and in that time, and unable for her to believe how much her life has changed since then. For so long the days and weeks blended together without distinction, but since Henry came into her life, her days have been so full and so rewarding—and for her the first time in her life, when she falls asleep at night, she finds herself looking forward to waking. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe that its already been a month, and then, other times, it’s hard to believe that’s all its been.”    

“How is he adjusting?” Robin asks, as he lays steaks onto the grill, looking back at her they sizzle and pop. “If that’s not too personal…”  

“No,” she says easily, as she drops the zucchini into a bowl, then reaches for the squash—she’d much rather talk about Henry than anything else. It’s easy and it’s safe, and it distracts her from the obvious problem of getting involved with any of Storybrooke’s residents. “He’s…adjusting,” she says. “Some things come naturally and have been easy for him to ease into, but other things…are going to take some time.” Robin places the burgers down beside the steak as he knife quickly cuts through the squash. “He’s…worried about starting school.”  

“Making friends or…”

“That mostly,” Regina confesses. “He struggles with math and I think he’s embarrassed he’ll be teased about that. It’s…happened before.”

“You know about the after-school tutoring program?”

“I’ve already signed him up,” she says with a nod as she scoops up the cut squash and adds it to the zucchini.

“I volunteer for that program,” Robin says easily, as he turns and reaches for the back for cut-up potato wedges. “Perhaps, it’d be easier if he had a familiar face helping.”

A smile stretches over Regina’s lips and she feels her heart flutter, appreciating the kindness and consideration Robin shows toward Henry. “I think he would.”  

“Then I’ll keep an eye out and make sure he’s in my group.”

“That’s…incredibly thoughtful. Thank you.”  

Robin grins as he spreads the potatoes on the grill. “He’s a sweet kid and he’s had it rough—and, I am incredibly grateful to him.” Regina turns and her brow furrows a bit as a grin stretches onto her lips. “He’s been very kind to Roland. Roland couldn’t stop talking about him when we got home from the park that day—and today, Henry waved to him in the hallway.” He grins. “He’s thrilled that a _third grader_ would pay him any attention.” He laughs a little, “And you should have seen the rush he was in to get here. He barely ate his lunch.”

“Henry really enjoys Roland’s company,” she tells him, thinking back to the conversation they’d had earlier that evening, her smile fading slightly. “He’s glad to have a friend.”

Regina reaching for the bowl of cut vegetables and Robin does, too—his fingers graze lightly over hers and she feels her breath catch at the contract. Their eyes meet and for a split second, she feels a flicker of something she can’t quite place; but she withdraws before she can figure it out. Robin sighs a little and takes the bowl, smiling softly at her before turning his attention back to the grill and spreads out the zucchini and squash.

“Robin,” she begins, taking a long breath, her stomach tightening as it churns. “You…know that this…isn’t a date, right?”   

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure at first, but…I know now.”

“I’m sorry. I should have…”

“Regina, don’t apologize.” He shrugs his shoulders and grins back at her from over his shoulder. “Besides, I was hoping that if you wanted to ask me out, you wouldn’t have had your eight-year old do it.” He laughs a little and she feels herself relaxing, surprised by his easy-going nature and how easy she finds it to be in his company—because as nervous as she is, she’s not nearly as nervous as she’d anticipated. “I’m not going to lie,” he says, giving the vegetables a little poke with the spatula before turning to face her. “I like you and I think there was definitely a connection the other day in the park.” He shakes his head and takes a short breath, and she’s not completely sure, but it looks like there’s a hint of a blush beneath the stubble covering his cheeks. “In fact, when I said I didn’t recognize you, that…wasn’t exactly true. I knew you were the mayor and I’d been looking for a reason to talk to you for quite some time.”

“Oh…” she murmurs, feeling her own cheeks flushing as her heart beat quickens—the thought of anyone wanting to know her feels bafflingly incomprehensible.  

“So, yes, I’d like to get to know you.”

“Robin…”  

“We don’t have to date each other to get to know each other,” he interjects quickly. “And I don’t want to push you into something that you’re not ready for or that you don’t want.” He shrugs his shoulders. “So, if you just want to be friends, then…we can just be friends.”

“Friends,” she repeats slowly, her shoulders once more relaxing. “I’d like that.”

“Okay then—this isn’t a date, we’re just two friends having dinner with our children.”

She nods, “Speaking of our children, that looks like it’s just about ready, so I’m going to go get them.”

Robin nods and turns back to the grill and she takes a short breath, unable to stop a smile from stretching across her lips as she turns toward the stairs, not entirely sure of the reason for her smile.

______ 

The boys are laying on the floor, sprawled out on a blanket with the bowl of peanut butter popcorn between them. Regina smiles, watching as their hands occasionally dip into the bowl as they stare at the TV wide-eyed and amazed. She’s not terribly interested in the movie, but she enjoys watching them—sincerely glad that Henry’s found at least one friend. Slowly, she glances over at Robin—he reaches for a few pieces of the cheddar popcorn and she watches as he tosses a piece into his mouth.

“This is really good,” he whispers as he turns to her, catching her lingering gaze. Her cheeks flush and she’s glad that they chose to turn off the lights for the movie so he can’t see just how red she is. “Its cheddar and parmesan…and…something else that I can’t quite place,” he says, tossing another piece into his mouth. “What is that?”

“A secret ingredient,” she whispers back.

“A secret ingredient…”

“Mm-hmm…”

“I shared my steak-butter recipe with you and you won’t tell me what’s in your popcorn. That’s hardly fair.”

She shrugs her shoulders and looks back to the screen. “I suppose it’s not.” From the corner, she sees his lips purse and his jaw drop a little. “I never asked for your recipe, though. You shared it willingly.”

“You _implied_ that you wanted it.”  

She shrugs her shoulders, “You still chose to give it to me.” She chuckles softly and looks back at him. “Speaking of the steaks, I’m going to go clean up the kitchen. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She exhales a breath she wasn’t even aware she’d been holding as she enters the kitchen. She reaches for the plates and scrapes leftover scraps of food into the garbage. She turns to the sink and rinses them quickly before setting them into the rack of the dishwasher. Collecting the silverware and cooking utensils, she does the same—then grabs the heavy grill and returns to the sink. She reaches for a wire brush on the ledge of the sink, quickly scrubbing it overtop the grill as the hot water runs over it. Her thoughts quickly turn to Henry and what the following day will bring him and she feels a familiar knot forming in her stomach—one that’s perpetually there when she thinks of Henry out in the world, alone without her.

“Do you need some help?”

“Oh, no,” she murmurs as she turns away from the sink. “I just…wanted to clean some of this up.”

“Let me help,” he insists. “I made most of this mess.”

Conceding, she nods and holds out the brush. “Can you do the grill while I wipe down the counters?” Robin nods easily and takes the brush as she reaches for a rag and wets it under the running faucet. For a brief moment their arms touch and she pulls back quickly—almost too quickly—and a hint of a smile forms on his lips. But he says nothing, focusing on the grill as she turns away from him.

“Dinner was…wonderful,” she says, somewhat awkwardly as she looks up at him.

“Thank you—I’m glad you enjoyed.”

“I don’t have dinner guests often, and it was…nice.”

“Then we’ll have to do it again,” he says, still focused on the grill.

“Yeah…” 

“The boys seem to be having a good time together. Perhaps next week, Roland and I can have you and Henry over for dinner and a movie.”

She takes a breath. “We’d…like that.” She laughs a little. “In fact, Henry would _love_ that.”

“I know Tuesday’s an odd night for it, but perhaps this could be…a regular thing?” Finally, he turns and grins and she feels her heartbeat quicken and her stomach flop.  Her eyebrow arches, but she feels herself nodding and a moment later, she hears herself agreeing—and though it surprises her, she has to admit that its nice having another adult around to talk to and having another child around for Henry to play with.

“Can I…ask you something?”        

“Of course you can.”

“Does this…ever get easier?”  

“Parenting?” He asks, shaking his head. “No.”

“I am constantly worried about him.” 

Robin grins, “That just means you’re doing it right.”

“Am I?” She laughs, “Because I’m just making it up as I go. I feel like I’m running on luck and just managing to do...okay.”

“A big part of parenting is learning to trust your instincts—trusting that you know what’s best for your child, and from what I can see, you’re doing a stellar job.” Robin smiles, “Just looking at Henry, I can tell that he’s happy and that he feels safe with you…and if that’s the case, then, you’re doing better than okay.”

She feels her cheeks flush and her heart flutters. “Right now, my instinct is telling me that I want to go to school with him tomorrow…just to make sure that he’s alright.” She shakes her head. “I’m so worried that he’s going to…be lonely and scared, that the other kids won’t be nice to him, that…everything he fears is going to happen.”

“So, do it,” Robin tells her in a sincere voice. “Go to school with him.” He pauses and considers for a moment, “Don’t stay the whole day, but…maybe check in on him, talk to his teacher, do what you need to do feel comfortable with this, and more importantly, that Henry feels comfortable with it.” He shrugs his shoulders. “After everything Henry’s been through, I don’t think it’s unreasonable.”

“It’s not too…much? I don’t want to hover or suffocate him.” She shakes her head, “And I don’t want to embarrass him.”

Robin nods and his eyes narrow—and then, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Henry had a birthday recently, right?”

“August fifteenth,” Regina says with a nod.  

“That’s perfect,” Robin says, his voice piquing with something that sounds like excitement. “You can bring in cupcakes to celebrate his birthday. Kids love stuff like that—cupcakes at school are like catnip for kids. And if you need more reason that than…you’re the mayor, right? So you can pop in and wish the kids good luck at the start of the year.”

“That…is perfect,” Regina says slowly, as grin works its way over her lips. “Completely perfect.”

“And I’ll help you,” Robin adds. “The boys have at least another hour on that movie…while they’re watching we can whip up a batch of cupcakes and some frosting.”

Once again, she feels her heart flutter as she turns to the cabinet, thankful for Robin’s advice and thoughtfulness in regards to Henry. Her smile deepens as she reaches for the flour and sugar, and directs Robin to the cabinet to retrieve a mixing bowl—and she can barely wait to surprise Henry the next day, hoping he’ll be as excited as she thinks he’ll be.

_____

Late the next morning, Regina’s standing at the front of Henry’s classroom as Mary Margaret Blanchard introduces her to Henry’s classmates. It doesn’t even bother her that she’s exchanging pleasantries with her once-nemesis because Henry’s eyes are wide and his smile is bright as the other children turn to look at him with smiles painted across their faces.  

Mary Margaret explains that Henry had a birthday over the summer and that his mother—also the mayor of Storybrooke—wanted to do something special for his classmates to celebrate not only his birthday, but the start of a new school year. She laughs a little as the other children sit up a little straighter as Mary Margaret takes the tray of yellow-cake cupcakes with vanilla frosting and colorful sprinkles, as she walks around with the chocolate ones topped with a raspberry. Both flavors sit in Avengers-themed cupcake-wrappers.

“Henry,” one little girl says excitedly as she holds up a cupcake that Regina’s just handed her. “I love raspberries! They’re my favorites.”

“Mine, too,” Henry says with a grin, looking momentarily up at Regina, before looking back at the little girl.

“Wow,” another boy, sitting at Henry’s table says as he takes a bit of his cupcake. “Your mom’s a really good baker.”

“I know,” she hears Henry reply with a little laugh behind his voice. “Everything she makes is good.”

Regina makes her way around the room and Mary Margaret does the same. She smiles at Henry’s classmates and they smile back, and she can hear them thanking Henry for the treat. Her heart swells as one of the boys thanks Henry, and confesses he was glad to get a Captain America cupcake, because Captain America is his favorite—and then the boy suggests that Henry sit him and his friends at lunch. Regina finds herself swallowing back the lump that forms at the back of her throat and blinks back her tears as relief washes over her, knowing that Henry won’t be eating alone. Henry looks up at her, catching her gaze as his hazel eyes shine with excitement before he turns back to the other boy and nods.

When each child has a cupcake, Mary Margaret thanks her emphatically telling her how much of a treat it was for her students, not just to have a cupcake in class, but for the mayor to visit them. Regina smiles and nods curtly, pushing away the long-dulled feelings she has for her, as she suggests she’ll take the remaining cupcakes to the main office for the other teachers. Mary Margaret smiles and nods, and once more thanks her as she steps out into the hall—and no sooner than she’s out of the classroom, Henry is crashing into her legs as his arm wraps around her waist.

“Thank you,” he murmurs in a raspy, but happy voice. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

Balancing the tray of cupcakes in one hand, she rubs her other hand between his shoulder blades. “I was glad to.” She presses him closer before releasing him. “Okay, go back in and I’ll see you after school.”

Henry nods and hugs her once more before returning to the classroom. She watches as he takes his seat, and almost immediately smiles at something that one of the boys at his table said. Her tears return as she lets out a shaky breath and turns away.

“Nicely done…Mom.” She turns to see Robin leaning against the lockers, smirking at her as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “It looks like the cupcakes were a success.”

“They were!” She laughs a little. “The kids _loved_ them and…they loved _Henry_ because I brought them in.” Her lip catches between her teeth as she blinks back her tears. “Thank you.”

Robin nods and takes a step toward her, pulling a cart with math supplies on it along with him. She watches as he takes the tray and sets it atop the cart, then takes two cupcakes from it and hands her one. She takes it and watches curiously as he taps the cupcake he’s holding against hers. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she returns, laughing softly as they bite into the cupcakes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Regina discovers that Henry has a learning disability, making math more difficult for him, Robin offers to help. As Robin and Roland, and Henry and Regina spend an increasing amount of time together, the two families grow much closer.

Regina draws up her legs and tucks them beneath herself as she settles on the couch in her office. There is a mound of paperwork sitting on her desk, but she found that she wasn’t much interested in that—not when she had a grocery list to plan. Tuesday night dinners had become a regular thing for the Locksley’s and the Mills’—and in less than three hours, Robin and Roland would be coming over and it was her turn to prepare a meal that the four of them could enjoy. It occurred to her mid-way through the day that she could always cancel or even reschedule. It wouldn’t have been unreasonable; she had a ton of work and a nagging headache, but Henry always looked forward to Tuesdays and she didn’t want to disappoint him—or at least, that’s what she told herself.  

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she examines a Taco Bake recipe from a cookbook she’d found tucked away in a cabinet. She scans the list of ingredients—noting that she has already has most of them at home and most of them sound at least moderately appealing to her. She makes a mental note to pick up some cilantro and avocado to add to Greek yogurt for a topping and some other ingredients to make her own pico de gallo—two substitutions she feels might make up for the entire bag of Doritos the recipe called for.  Taking a breath she scans the recipe again, catching herself off guard when she wonders what sort of wine might compliment such a dish…  

She takes a short breath and turns the page, and tries to shift her thoughts away from wine to the Apple Cinnamon Taquito recipe that was suggested as a possible after-Taco Bake treat. But before she can dwell for too long on dessert recipe or the fact she’ll be consuming a _quarter of a bag_ of Doritos or why the idea of sharing a bottle of wine with Robin has a grin tugging at one corner of her mouth, her she hears her office door opens, followed by a sniffle and all thoughts of anything else fade away.    

“ _Henry_ ,” she says as she turns herself toward the door, her voice piquing with concern. She takes a fleeting glance at her watch. “Aren’t you supposed to be at tutoring?”  

She watches as he shrugs his shoulders and his eyes all away from hers. He sniffles again, and then his jaw begins to tremble. “There’s no point.”    

“You’ve been making so much progress,” she counters gently.  

Henry looks back up at her, this time with tears welling in his sweet, hazel eyes and a moment later, she’s holding him in her arms, gently telling him over and over again that it’ll be okay—even though she’s not sure what _it_ is. Her hand slips beneath his backpack, rubbing soothingly between his shoulder blades. Slowly, his arms link around her neck and she lifts him up as she stands, carrying him over to the couch.  

She settles him there and then sits down beside him, draping her arm around his small shoulders and hugging him into her side. Taking a breath, she drops a quick kiss over the top of his head, wanting nothing more than to love away his tears.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He pulls back a little and looks up at her—though he’s small for his age, he looks so little—defeated and broken—and her heart breaks as his jaw again begins to tremble.

“I failed,” he whispers after a moment.  

“What?”    

“My math test,” he says, looking up at her. “I failed it.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as she pulls him closer. “I’m so sorry…”

“I studied and everything.”

“I know…” And she does know. They spent hours that weekend studying for that test—and she knew without question that Henry knew the rules of long division inside and out, yet whenever it came to actually doing a problem, it all fell apart. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

“Ms. Blanchard had to _fold_ my test when she gave it back to me,” he tells her, sniffling back tears that want to fall. “She didn’t have to do that for _anyone_ else and _everyone_ saw.” Regina feels her jaw tighten and she takes a breath and strokes her fingers over Henry’s hair, trying to focus on him and not a thoughtless and likely unintentional action that made him feel this way. “Then we had to go over it and make corrections.”

“Well, at least now you know what…”

“Mom, I got every question wrong,” Henry says, his shaky voice raising as he looks up at her. “ _Every single problem_ ,” he adds, his breath catching as his face scrunches. “Everyone saw.”    

“I’m sure they didn’t notice…”

“They _did_!” Henry cuts in. “They did and now they know how _dumb_ I am.”

“Oh, Henry, no…don’t say that.”

“But I am.”    

“You’re _not_ ,” Regina insists, pulling him closer. “I know it’s hard, but…” She presses a kiss to his hair as her voice trails off. She can feel his tears on pooling on her shirt—and she doesn’t quite know what to say, so she just holds him for awhile, letting him cry on her shoulder until he doesn’t have tears left to cry.

“I…think we should cancel dinner.” She pulls back a little and it’s her first instinct to nod in agreement, and suggest they spend the evening cuddling on the couch with some loud movie with lots of explosions that she’ll surely hate, but willingly watch again and again, if it makes him happy. “I don’t want Robin to know.”

“About the test?”

He nods. “He’s going to be so mad.”

“I don’t think he’ll be mad at you.”

“But he wasted so much time…”

“It _wasn’t_ a waste of time, Henry,” she says with a soft sigh, hating that he feels this way and hating that others have made him feel this way. “Because you,” she begins as she lifts his chin. “ _You_ are not a waste of time.”

“But…”

“And I am sure Robin will say the same thing when he and Roland are over for dinner tonight,” she tells him with a smirk, as she stands and tugs at his hand. “Now, we have groceries to pick up and the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and I am positive that there is still a pair of dirty socks on the stairs that need to be picked up.” She gives his hand a light squeeze as she pulls him up. “And, on top of that, I am fairly certain there’s a comic book waiting for you in the mail box that _needs_ to be read as soon as possible.”

_____

She’s in the kitchen, slicing into the avocado, when the doorbell rings and there’s a surprising flutter in chest—they’re early. She wipes her hands on a dish cloth and then tosses it to the counter, walking briskly toward the door in hopes of reaching it before Henry. She reaches for the knob and sighs; he didn’t rush to the door as he usually does and his bedroom door is still closed. Nonetheless, she smiles as she opens the door and just as expected, Robin is standing there with Roland on his hip and a grocery bag in the opposite hand. Roland holds up two brown glass bottles in his fists and smiles brightly as he hoists them up so that she can see them. She laughs a little and lets them in, peering down into the grocery bag as Robin sets Roland down.

“Where’s Henry?” Roland asks before either she or Robin can say a word.  

“He’s upstairs,” Regina tells him, glancing quickly from Roland to Robin and then back. “Why don’t you go up and find him—he’s feeling pretty down today and I think he could use a friend.”

Regina laughs a little as Roland nods and Robin grabs the bottles of root beer as Roland bounds toward the stairs. Robin looks back at her and offers a sheepish grin as he holds up the bottles of root beer, just as Roland had done a moment before. “I thought, perhaps, Henry might like a little pick-me-up after that math test.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Ms. Blanchard came in to tutoring to see Henry, and since he wasn’t there, she and I chatted for a bit.”

“Ah.”

“And there’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” Robin says, glancing towards the stairs. “Perhaps out of earshot.” Regina nods, taking the grocery bag from him and carrying it to the kitchen. She sets the bag on the counter and reaches inside and pulls out a tub of vanilla ice cream, a can of whipped cream and some chocolate sauce. “I’ve been told that I make a pretty mean root beer float,” Robin explains, as he reaches into the bag to pull out the last items as he follows her to the refrigerator. “So, I thought that, perhaps after dinner, we could make floats. I don’t know if you’re much of a root beer drinker, but I brought a couple of bottles of the adult variety because…if your kid is having a rough day, that means you are, too…and perhaps you might need a bit more than some ice cream.”

“I actually do like root beer,” she admits as a smile tugs onto her lips. “A guilty pleasure.” Robin chuckles softly as his blue eyes shimmer with kindness. “And this is…incredibly sweet of you to do.”

“It’s nothing…”  

“No,” Regina cuts in. “It’s not _nothing_. Henry’s not used to…having people care about him. So, it really means a lot to me that you thought of him.”

Robin nods and again flashes that sweet smile. “He’s a great kid, Regina. It’s easy to care about him.”

At that, she smiles and nods and when he reaches for her hand to give it a soft squeeze, she finds it hard to breathe. He’s standing so close and smiling so sincerely and, under different circumstances, she might allow this little moment to continue to see where it might lead.

But instead, she clears her throat and steps around him. “So, uh, what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh…um…Ms. Blanchard and I spoke at length about Henry’s test and she and I have…a theory.”

“A theory?”

“We think Henry may have something called dyscalculia.”

Regina feels her chest tighten and she shakes her head, “I…I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s a bit like dyslexia, but affects the way he processes numbers rather than words.” Robin pauses to give her a moment to process what he’s said, watching as she nods and swallows hard. “It’s a learning disability…”

“Oh…and…what would that mean for Henry?”    

“Only that he’d have to learn to adjust to it, to learn some strategies to help him cope with it,” Robin says easily. “It’s typically diagnosed in earlier grades, but…”

“But Henry’s never had stable schooling, much less anyone at home who’d care enough to notice,” Regina says, feeling her jaw tighten as guilt pinches at her core. “What else?”

“Ms. Blanchard feels—and after working with Henry for the past few weeks, I would agree—that his biggest struggles are multi-step procedures…”

“Like long-division.”

“Yes,” Robin nods. “And he has trouble translating or connecting verbal math problems to written ones.” Regina looks up and lets out a shallow breath, shaking her head as she tries to understand. “What I mean is that Henry can listen to a math problem and better understand it than he can when it’s written down. In both ways, he struggles with the steps, but he has more success explaining problems than writing them down.”

“Oh…so…what does that mean for him?”  

“Well, I don’t quite know. Ms. Blanchard wasn’t sure either, but she had some ideas—one of which was additional tutoring.” Regina nods, again, still processing. “Things like math games might be helpful, too, and using it in scenarios that he’s already comfortable with.”

“Like when he helps me cook.”

“Exactly,” Robin says. “He can also use things like multiplication tables and manipulatives so he can visualize a problem. Ms. Blanchard has some in her classroom and said that Henry could take them home for extra practice.” Again, Regina just nods. “After she and I talked, I did a bit of reading and…”

“You did?”  

Robin nods, “Yes, and I was thinking that, perhaps if it’s okay with you, I could work with him a bit after tutoring. Maybe spend an evening or two each week with him, working on math.”  

“You would do that?” Robin nods, smiling gently. “Then, yes, if…if it’s really not too much trouble.” She feels a smile once more tugging at the corners of her mouth. “It’d mean a lot to Henry. He really enjoys working with you, and he was worried that you’d be upset with him, that you’d think he was a waste of your time.”

“Because he failed a test?” Robin asks, his brow furrowing as Regina nods watching as worry settles in Robin’s eyes. “Oh…”

“I told him that you wouldn’t think that, but…I think it would help hearing it from you.”

“Of course,” he tells her, smiling warmly, once more reaching for her hand and giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure this out.” Her breath catches her in her chest and once more she feels a little flutter in her stomach, and all she can manage to do is nod and squeak out a quick ‘thank you’ as Robin winks and drops her hand. “So,” he says, turning away from her and looking toward to the counter where a bowl of forgotten Greek yogurt and slices of avocado sit.   
“What’s for dinner?”  

“Um, a taco bake recipe I found…” she says, swallowing hard. “I was going to make an avocado topping and some homemade pico.”

Robin grins and she watches as he tosses a cube of avocado into his mouth. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“Well,” she begins, taking a step toward the counter as her shoulders relax. “You can start by chopping the cilantro…”

_____

After dinner, the boys clear the table as Robin and Regina get out the ingredients for Robin’s infamous floats. Regina watches as Roland hands Henry plate after plate to load into the dishwasher—he was much quieter than usual tonight, focusing mostly on his food and avoiding eye contract. Robin had tried to talk with him, but he’d mostly answered in one-word responses, giving most of his attention to Roland—the one person who had no concept of the failed math test.

“Can I help scoop the ice cream?” Roland asks, looking away from Henry and watching as Regina pulls the top off of the tub of vanilla.

She grins and nods, waving him over and lifting him onto a chair as she places four glass mugs in front of him, then hands him the scooper. Glancing up she grins at Robin, who’s turned his attention to Henry. Robin leans against the counter, watching as Henry slides the used silverware into the proper inserts on the rack, working slowly and likely trying to avoid having to talk to anyone.

“You know, I talked to Ms. Blanchard today…”

“Oh…”

Robin glances quickly at Regina, then looks back to Henry. “She said you can retake that test.”

“It won’t matter,” Henry murmurs. “I’ll still fail.”

“You don’t know that…”

“Yes, I do.” Her chest tightens as she watches Henry continue to load the dishwasher, and her hand folds around Roland’s helping him to drag the scooper through the ice cream and drop it into the first mug. “I’m useless…”

“No,” Robin interjects, reaching out and lifting Henry on top of the counter. “Listen to me. You’re not useless and you’re not a waste of my time. Some things are harder for certain people. Just because you couldn’t do those math problems on that test doesn’t mean you can’t do them.” Henry’s brow furrows as he finally looks up at Robin, and Regina watches as a grin stretches over Robin’s lips. “Your mom and I talked about it and tomorrow after school, you and I are going to grab some burgers at Granny’s and a do a little math.”

Regina’s bottom lip catches between her teeth as Henry’s nose crinkles. “The burgers sound great, but the math…not so much.” She helps Roland to fill the last mug and then reaches for the chocolate sauce, drizzling it over the ice cream, just as Robin had instructed. “But okay,” Henry agrees with a nod.

“And I promise, you’re going to do better the next time around.”    

“I don’t know about that…”

“Well, I do,” Robin cuts in. “And you trust me, right?” Regina grins as a small smile edges onto Henry’s lips and he nods. “Good. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think you’ve spent enough time worrying about that math test. How about you worry about making the perfect float instead?”

Henry nods and grins again, looking back at Roland who is drizzling chocolate sauce into the last of the mugs as Regina twists the tops of off of the boys’ root beers. She holds one out to him and he giggles as Robin slides him across the counter, using his hand as a bumper to keep him from falling off the edge. Regina laughs and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Henry’s forehead as he takes one of the bottles, then she hands the other to Roland.

“I’ve never had a float with chocolate sauce in it.”  

“Neither have I,” Regina tells him.  

“It’s my secret ingredient,” Robin confesses, a small chuckle behind his words. “So, you two will have to promise me that you won’t tell a single soul.”

“It’s _so_ good,” Roland adds, as Robin uncaps the two root beers for Regina and himself, and then instructs the boys to pour in the root beer. They do and he adds the whipped topping, then squirts on a bit more chocolate drizzle as Regina drops spoons into their mugs.  

“I also think we should discuss Halloween costumes,” Robin adds, winking at Regina as Henry’s eyes widen.

“I’ve never actually had a costume.”

“You haven’t?” Roland asked, his eyes widening too. “Last year I was a hobbit…”

“Like from Lord of the Rings?”

Roland nods. “I had a cape and everything.”

“Mom, can I show Roland my Middle Earth Lego set?” Henry looks up at her hopefully as Roland’s eyes light up, and she sighs, unable to say no and glad to see him so excited. “Please?”  

“Okay,” she nods, “But…try to be careful with the floats.”

“We will,” Henry promises as he and Roland hop down to the floor and grab their floats.

“Careful…”    

Henry nods and slows his pace, and Roland does the same. Regina laughs a little as they head toward the stairs, and she looks back at Robin with a grateful smile. She doesn’t say anything, but he nods in understanding as he continues to make their floats.

_____

As promised, Robin spends a few extra nights each week working with Henry. They sometimes meet at Granny’s and other times he comes over, but tonight, they’re at his cabin. It’s cozy and quaint, nestled into the woods at the edge of the town. It’s odd to be there—though it’s not the first time—but odd to be there like this, with her preparing dinner in his kitchen while she watches Robin with the boys, practicing fractions with Legos.

The extra tutoring has helped, and though Henry still struggles, he’s less frustrated than he was before—and not nearly as defeated when he doesn’t catch on. As promised, Ms. Blanchard allowed Henry to retake the test two weeks later, and he scored a C-minus—something he’d proudly exclaimed as he bounded into her office, brandishing the test in front of her. She’d smiled and swept him up in her arms and pressed a kiss into his cheek—so relieved that his efforts were working. In addition to practicing with Robin, she’d turned cooking into a game—making him measure things and figure out adjustments, and she’d even bought him a special measuring cup that had a grip on the handle and all of the measurements in bold red print.  She couldn’t help but notice that Henry’s confidence was growing and though he still was unsure of himself a lot of the time, he was much more willing to try.  

She brushed some melted butter over the ham and cheese pockets and then sprinkled them with seasoning as she slid them into the oven, then turns her attention to the stove to stir hollandaise sauce—something she managed to convince Roland was a cheese sauce.  Filling a pot with water, she sets it on the stove and brings it to a boil before dropping in the fresh-cut asparagus, looking back over her shoulder and watching as Robin high-fives Henry—she doesn’t quite know what they’re doing, but Henry’s smiling and it makes her heart feel light.  

Smiling, she turns away from them, wiping down the counters and rinsing out measuring cups and utensils. Over the running water, she hears them all laugh from the adjoining living room and feels a warmth rising in her chest, accompanied by a feeling she can’t quite place.

When dinner is ready, she calls them into the kitchen and the boys help set the table while she plates the food and Robin pours drinks—milk for the boys and sweet riesling for the adults. A few minutes later, they’re all at the table and Roland is suddenly unsure he wants to try the ham and cheese pockets, which leads them into a frivolous conversation about different types of cheeses. This one is gruyere—and it has a funny name and it’s not yellow, and that’s the cause of Roland’s skeptical. Henry, who eats almost anything, assures him he’ll like it because it’s not all that different from the type of cheese they use on pizza. Robin chuckles as Roland concedes, more than satisfied with Henry’s explanation, and finally tries it and she finds herself laughing as his brown eyes widen and he takes a bigger bite, nodding approvingly at her as he mumbles something to her that she can’t understand between bites.  

The conversation soon changes to Halloween costumes and Henry excitedly tells Robin and Roland about the Captain America costume Regina’s been making for him. Robin’s eyebrows arch and Regina nods, confirming that she is actually making most of the costume—though, they’ve purchased a mask and a shield from the Halloween store in town. Roland excitedly exclaims that he’ll also be an Avenger—Hawkeye—but he’ll be using his _own_ bow and arrow with his costume, a detail that he seems all too proud to include.

“Perhaps,” Robin begins, glancing in Regina’s direction. “We could all go trick-or-treating next week, together.”

“Yeah,” she nods as a smile edges onto her lips as he glances between them. “I think that’d be fun.”

“It would be,” Henry agrees, grinning at her with a curious expression on his lips. “You guys can keep each other company while Roland and I get our candy.” He’s undoubtedly trying to play match-maker again—and she’s surprised when she finds herself not completely against the idea. And upon that realization, she finds her stomach beginning to churn, as all the reasons she should be against it begin to swirl through her head.

_____

It’s a couple of days before Halloween and once more, she finds herself falling behind in her mayoral tasks. There’s a scheduled Halloween parade and all of the local businesses will be passing out candy to the children of Storybrooke—and while that seems simple enough, there are a thousand little things she needs to do to ensure that all of that happens.

When Robin volunteered to take Henry for a Saturday to allow her some time to catch up on her work, she’d jumped at the offer—and then back peddled a bit, not wanting to impose and making promises to return the favor. He’s smiled—that kind, sweet smile—and squeezed her hand and told her it was the kind of things that friends did for one another, no repayment would be necessary, though he appreciated the offer. Still, she’d hedged a bit—she wasn’t used to this sort of generosity—but he’d insisted that Henry was no trouble, in fact, Henry would be doing him a favor by keeping Roland occupied and out of the way.

So, that morning, she’d dropped Henry off at Robin’s shop. Before she’d even made it to the door, he and Roland were climbing into a canoe that was on display, pretending to be rafting down the River Wharfe as Henry begins retelling the fable of the river and Roland’s eyes grow wide as he asks if the river can really eat people. Regina laughs as she waves to Robin and sets out toward City Hall, ready to lose herself in approving vendors ensuring barricades are properly placed.

She spends the day this way—engrossed in preparations for Halloween—and for the first time in all her years in Storybrooke, she finds herself looking forward to this annual tradition. She planned the whole thing, mostly on her own, and kept Henry in mind. She picked the kinds of candy he likes best and the street vendors would be selling snacks and other little things that he would enjoy. The parade was filled with floats that she knew would make him smile, and for the first time ever, they’d have a fireworks display at the end—something she knew that Henry would love.  

Grinning in satisfaction, she glances out her window at the lowering sun. Her grin pulls tighter as she pushes herself away from her desk, as she decides to pick up burgers and fries for Robin and the boys. It’s a sort of thank you, she supposes, as she heads away from City Hall in the direction of the diner. She picks up her pace as she turns onto Main Street, eager to pick up to food and take it over to Robin’s shop just down the street from Granny’s. Her anticipation builds as Granny rings up the order, chuckling softly when she confirms that she and Henry will indeed be dining with the Locksley’s yet again, and denies that there’s anything going on between her and Robin. Granny rolls her eyes and smirks, reminding her, yet again, that she could do a lot worse than Robin Locksley. Regina nods, laughing a little as she leaves, and then continues on her way down Main Street until she reaches Robin’s shop. There’s a small patch of grass at the side of the store, which is situated on a corner and there, Robin stands with Henry and Roland. There’s big round target set up and Robin is standing behind Henry, easing back his arm as he holds a bow. She watches as he says something to Henry, who nods in reply, then Roland hands him an arrow—the kind would a big orange suction cup on the tip—and she watches as Henry places it in the bow. He looks to Robin, who nods his approval, and then Henry eases back his arm, just as Robin had shown him a moment before, and then the arrow goes sailing. Her breath catches as the arrow hits the target—and she watches as Roland jumps up and down, clapping his hands together as Robin rushes forward, scooping Henry up and swinging him around. She can hear them all laughing and cheering and tears form in her eyes, watching the scene unfold…

“Mom!” Henry calls out as she catches a glimpse of her. “Mom, I hit the target!”

“On the _first_ _try_ ,” Robin calls out, waving to her as he smiles broadly, still holding onto Henry.

She nods, suddenly unable to find her voice, as tears brim in her eyes and an overwhelming wave of emotion hits her—and for the first time, she realizes it all means.  


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina and Henry celebrate Henry's first Halloween in Storybrooke--complete with costume-making, a school party, a parade, and of course, trick-or-treating with Robin and Roland.

Regina smiles in satisfaction and breathes out a sigh of relief as she laces red shoelaces into the red rain boots she and Henry picked up that morning at the local thrift store. Initially, when Henry told her that he wanted to go as Captain America for Halloween, she assumed the costume would be easy to find—a worst-case scenario was that they’d have to order it. But when he’d looked up at her with those sweet hazel eyes and sheepishly asked if they could make it, she just couldn’t say no—it didn’t matter that she’d only sewn buttons onto sweaters and replaced the occasional hem in a worn skirt—and she’d quickly decided that they’d just figure it out as they went. So, she and Henry spent the past couple of weeks scouring Storybrooke, collecting the items necessary for the costume. Slowly but surely, she had somehow managed to turn an old blue pair of sweats and some worn out football ball pads into something that looked surprisingly impressive—and not just by an eight-year old’s standards, but by her own.

The belt had been the easiest part—an old seat belt that needed little alteration—and Henry enjoyed playing with it as Regina worked on the cap—the piece of the costume that proved to be the hardest. He’d been a good sport about sitting beside her with a measuring tape wrapped around his head. Finally, she got it right and as she worked on it, Henry worked on transforming the lid to one of her stainless steel pots into a proper shield, smiling proudly as cut out a vinyl star and pressed it into the center.

“So, what do you think,” she asks, taking a step back and looking him up and down. “Do you think it’ll work?”

Henry grins and holds out his arms, looking at the red gloves. “I think it’s perfect,” he murmurs, as his grin widens. “I can’t wait to show Roland. He’s going to think this is so cool.” Regina laughs a little as Henry’s eyes meet hers. “It’s better than I even though it’d be.”

“Good. I’m glad,” she tells him, leaning in and pressing a kiss over his gloved hand. “Now, let’s get you changed and ready for bed.” He takes her hand as he hops off the counter. “Go wash up and I’ll be in to tuck you in.”

He nods and skips ahead, her arm out-stretching to hold onto his for just a moment later. She smiles and sighs as Henry’s fingers slide from hers and she follows as he runs toward the stairs—and then comes to a sudden stop. She tips her head curiously as he turns to her, “If we finish _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ tonight, can we start _Prince Caspian_ right away?”  

“Uhhh...maaaaaybe,” she murmurs, scrunching her face as he looks at her expectantly. “I don’t think we’re going to have time. But tomorrow night, for sure.”

Henry sighs, “If you read fast?”

Regina narrows her eyes and suppresses the urge to smile, putting on her best ‘mom face.’ “I think someone is just avoiding trying to go to bed.”

“I’m not. I promise. I just… _really_ want to start the new book.”

“Well, the longer you stand there, the less likely it is that that will happen.” She laughs as his eyes widen and she leans in and drops a kiss atop his head. “Make sure you’re careful taking off your costume. You have to wear it to school tomorrow and I _know_ that I am not a good enough sewer to patch anything up before I have at least two cups of coffee.”

Henry giggles, then nods and runs up the stairs.

Regina watches him go, lingering at the bottom of the stairs long after she hears his bedroom door close. A smile pulls onto her lips—he seems so happy, and that warms her heart.  It’s been just more than two and a half months since she found Henry on that fateful night, and it never ceases to amaze her how easily—and even naturally—he fit into her life and how much fuller her life now feels.

She smiles again as she hears the door open and then hears him pad into the bathroom, and a moment later, the shower turns on. Pushing herself away from the stairs, she yawns and slowly makes her way into the kitchen, cleaning up the scraps of fabric and vinyl. She smiles softly as she picks up the sheet of vinyl that Henry pain-stakingly traced the star onto. She runs her fingers over the cut outline, her smile deepening as she thinks of what the following day will bring—a Halloween festival at school and then the parade and trick-or-treating with Robin and Roland—all things she’d planned over and over again, tweaking and perfecting, year after year; but she’d never participated, she’d only ever watched from afar.

She tosses the scraps, but saves the star, then heads upstairs to change into out of her clothes. She brushes her hair and takes off her makeup, and by the time she’s through, she hears the shower turn off. She grins as she watches Henry pad down the hall with wet hair and the sweatpants and t-shirt she bought him at the hotel in New York. Pulling her robe on over her own pajamas, she follows him back to his room, watching from the doorway as he climbs into bed and nestles back against the pillows with a tired, but content smile.

His costume is hanging over the back of his desk chair, the gloves, mask and shield sit on the desk and the boots on the seat of the chair. She grins as she looks back to him and finds him looking at her with expectant, but hooded eyes. She pushes herself into the room as he tries to hide his yawn.

“Maybe tonight,” she begins as she sits down on the edge of his bed. “We should skip the story.”

“Please? We don’t have to start the new book, but I want to see how this one ends.”

“You’re not too tired?” Henry shakes his head, again hiding another yawn as Regina reaches for the book on his night stand, and begins reading through the last chapter. She doesn’t even reach the second page before Henry’s asleep and she’s return it to the nightstand. Carefully, she gets up and pulls the blanket up a little higher as she leans in, pressing a soft to his forehead. “I love you, Henry,” she whispers as she pulls back, stroking her thumb against his chin. “I’m so glad I found you.”

_____

Henry was up and dressed before Regina even came in to wake him, and he could barely eat his cereal and was ready to leave a full fifteen minutes ahead of schedule—so they’d done just that.

When they’d arrived at Storybrooke Elementary, Regina helped Henry carry in his things—a backpack didn’t really fit over his costume and the plate of M&M sugar cookies they’d made after dinner would have never made to the classroom if it’d be left to him.  A grin tugged onto her lips and her heart fluttered softly as she watched a group of third graders run toward Henry and a little girl with wearing a black and yellow tutu and batwings grabbed onto his hand and pulled him toward a table to pick a treat bag.

She’d stood there, just watching for a moment—enjoying watching him interact with his friends, smiling and laughing with them, checking out their costumes while they checked out his, and looking so light-hearted and carefree—and so, so different than the boy she’d taken for some onion rings just a couple of months before.

And she’d stood there just a moment too long…

“Madam Mayor!” Regina’s smile fades slightly and her shoulders immediately tense as Mary-Margaret Blanchard waves to her, smiling too brightly as she stepped gingerly in her directions, glittery fairy wings bouncing behind her. She takes a breath and turns, putting on her best I-don’t-really-hate-you smile. “Madam Mayor, will you be staying for the fun?”

“Oh, no,” Regina says quickly. “I was just dropping off Henry and some cookies.”

 “Really? The kids would love it if you stayed,” Mary Margaret says with wide eyes. “Other parents are staying—most volunteered to chaperone one of the games or do a story or…” She pauses when Regina shakes her head. “Or just to keep an eye out, make sure no one gets hurt or eats too much candy.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Regina says. “The parade’s tonight and there’s….”

“Will you stay, Mom?” Regina blinks as Henry steps up beside Mary Margaret and she sighs, and feels herself nodding. “Please?”

“Okay. I suppose I could stay just for a bit…”

Henry grins and Mary Margaret reaches for her hand, giving it a tight squeeze that makes every nerve in her body stand on edge. “Oh, I am _so_ glad. Once the bell rings, we’ll get started. We have a few math and writing activities—then we’ll head out of the playground for some games.” She gives Regina’s hand a gentle tug, murmuring something about a math game she thinks Henry may enjoy and reluctantly, Regina follows her to her desk to look at it, reminding herself that she’s doing this for Henry. 

The morning passes quickly, and once the bell rings, Mary Margaret’s attention turns to her students—and away from Regina. She stands in the back while they start with an activity—a Halloween math challenge, and Regina’s eyes turn to Henry, watching as he struggles through it and she smiles when the little girl wearing the batwings leans over to help him. Henry grins and nods, then erases and tries again. And when it’s time to do a Halloween-themed writing prompt, he and the little girl trade responses, giggling together as they read. It’s sweet, she thinks—and though she wonders every day if returning to Storybrooke with Henry was the right choice for them, wondering if it wouldn’t have just been easier to start a new life together in New York or Boston or somewhere else, she can’t help feel glad that they’re here and she can’t help but feel grateful for the little support network they seem to be building—and she tries to ignore the fact that if she doesn’t figure out something soon, that little network will fade away before the next fall.

After the kids write, there’s a story, and then Mary Margaret leads her third graders out to the playground, which is decorated with orange and black balloons and streamers. There are ring tosses and guessing booths, a tic-tac-toe game that uses colorful bouncy balls to track the X’s and O’s, a whack-a-mole-game with cute little gophers that bob up and down, tug-of-war and hopscotch, a sand art table and a face-painting tent—and so much more. None of this is new to her—it’s her office that funds the schools Halloween party—but actually seeing it all set up with kids running through and laughing with their friends makes it feel different than its felt in previous years, and a sense of accomplishment creeps up inside of her.

“I didn’t think you were staying…” She turns to see Robin standing at a balloon pop game, grinning at her as he twirls a dart between his fingers. “Did Henry rope you into volunteering?”

She laughs softly and nods, “I really thought I was in the clear when I signed up to make cookies for the picnic.”

“Ah, a rookie mistake,” he tells her as he steps out of the booth and extends the dart to her. “Want to try?”

“I…shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, I’m supposed to be watching third graders.”

“They are fine,” he says, gesturing past her. “Look, Henry and a couple of his friends are making sand art pictures and…that kid over there is just…swinging back and forth eating candy.” She grins as she spots Roland, playing hopscotch with some of his classmates, while a group of little girls play tug-of-war nearby. “See?”

She turns back, smirking as her eyebrow arches at him. “There’s also the fact that I…can’t aim.”

“Can’t aim?” 

“No,” she says, laughing a little. “When I throw things, unless there is a very large target, they don’t go where I expect them to go.” She points at a balloon. “And those aren’t even a little bit _large_.” Robin’s eyes narrow and a grin pulls onto his lips—and her brow furrows curiously as he eyes her. “What are you…”

“I bet it’s not really an issue of not being _able_.” 

“Oh, but it is…” She rolls her eyes. “You don’t know this, but I have a bit of a temper. And…you’d be amazed at the things I’ve avoided breaking, simply because I can’t aim.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“That I have a temper?”

“Oh, no,” he’s quick to say, chuckling softly as he cross his arms over his chest. “ _That_ I can believe,” he tells her. “There’s a fire in your eyes and…I may or may not have seen you barking once or twice at city workers the other day…”

“Well, if they’d _only learn_ to use caution tape when they...”

He laughs out and shakes his head, “That’s not what I meant though.”

“No?”

“No. What I meant is I don’t believe that you can’t aim.” He shrugs. “I just think your technique is off.”

“My technique?” She asks. “It’s hardly an art form.”

“Again, I am going to have to disagree,” he says, as a coy grin forms onto his lips as he uncrosses his arms and hands her the little dart. This time, she takes it reluctantly, looking down at it as Robin circles behind her. “Can I…try something?” She nods and her breath catches in her chest as Robin’s hands touch to her elbows. She closes her eyes and swallows hard, trying to ignore the nearly electrical current that merely touch of his fingertips sends through her. “Just…a little higher,” he murmurs, pushing up her elbows slightly. Her eyes open and she releases a shallow breath, as he turns her hips and then her shoulders. “Now, draw back your arm…”

She nods a little and pulls back her arm, “Like this?”

“Yes, now…throw.”

She does and the dart skims past a balloon, piercing into the backboard three balloons over from the one she’d been attempting to hit. Rolling her eyes, she turns to him and places her hands on her hips. “See?”

“What I see is that that wasn’t bad.”

“I completely missed the balloon.”

“You _just barely_ missed it,” he counters.

“That’s a solid foot.”

Robin shakes his head and laughs a little.  “Now, turn back around.” Again, she rolls her eyes, but does as he instructs and once more, her breath catches as he turns her back into position. This time, he doesn’t withdraw when he tells her to pull back her arm, instead, his fingers curl around her hand and his other hand settles on her hip. “Lean back,” he murmurs and when she does, she can feel his breath on her ear—and if she’s supposed to be concentrating, he’s making that impossible. “Good—now—I’ll guide your hand as we throw it, okay?” She manages a nod as he draws her hand back a bit more and her eyes press closed as he pushes her hand forward, and when she hears a pop, her eyes fly open.

“See!?” Robin exclaims as his arms wrap around her waist as he pulls her back into a hug and there’s a fluttering in her chest as she lets him. “And you said you couldn’t aim!”

Regina just nods, pulling out of his hold and turning to face him as she releases a shaky breath and a smile tugs onto her lips. “Do I win anything?”

He laughs and quickly steps behind the booth, retrieving a little stuffed apple with arms and legs extending from it and an embroidered face bearing a wide smile. Robin extends it to her with a proud smile and she can’t help but laugh out as she takes the apple—and once more, she feels her heart flutter in her chest.

They settle back in chairs, watching as the kids play. Every now and then a group of kids comes up to play the balloon game and Regina watches Robin helps them to square their shoulders and aim for the balloons. Some of the kids manage to pop one and when others don’t, Robin lets them have another try, without taking another ticket from them. When it’s lunchtime, the teachers bring out all the parent-supplied treats and the kids spread out of blankets with their lunches. Robin pulls an extra sandwich from his satchel and hands it to her, and she grins as she peels back the wax paper wrapping as he opens a back chips and offers to share.  

She nods and takes a short breath, taking a chip and popping it into her mouth, laughing as one of the kids convinces Mary Margaret to bob for apples; and when she pulls herself up, wet-faced and dripping, there’s an apple in her mouth and Regina feels a snicker rumbling in her chest at the sight of Mary Margaret Blanchard eating an apple. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks over at Robin, who chuckles softly, then turns back to watch as the kids cheer on their teacher, and then line up for a chance to catch their own apple.

_____ 

By the time school ends, Henry is practically bouncing with excitement—undoubtedly fueled by a sugar high—when they enter her office, take-out from Granny’s in hand. He’s talking a mile a minute, recapping—for probably the third time—everything he did that day and who he did it with and outlining everything he’s looking forward to in the coming evening. He asks all sorts of questions about the night’s activities—questions that he already knows the answer to—and when she answers them—yet again—he looks up at her with such an innocent amazement, it’s hard to be annoyed.

And there’s a part of her that’s glad for it—glad to be distracted, to have someone to keep her from thinking of all of planning and preparation that went into the night’s events, how it all has to come together in just a few short hours, and how all of it is now out of her control—because the thought that terrifies her, even with something as trivial as a small Halloween parade.   

Regina takes the Styrofoam containers out from the plastic bag and sets them on the conference table, then pulls out the ketchup and salt packets, and the plastic utensils, sighing when she finds that Ruby forgot the napkins—something she’s learned is absolutely essential when dining with Henry when he eats anything that includes any sort of sauce.  Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she looks over at Henry who is sitting on the arm of the couch wearing a lopsided grin as he kicks his feet back and forth as he examines his shield.   

“I’ll be right back,” she says with an aggravated sigh as she crumples the bag. “I am going to find some napkins.”

“Okay,” Henry replies passively, his feet continuing to clack his feet loudly against the leg of the couch as she leaves.

She’s given her staff a rare day off. With all of the excitement over the annual Halloween festivities, there wouldn’t be much coming through the Mayor’s office today, and all of the preparations had to be completed in advance, so there was little for them to do—and, she’d been feeling benevolent. Now, as she looks around the empty office, she feels a soft pang of regret. Letting out a sigh, she digs through the cabinet in search of napkins. The cabinet is a mess, filled with a random assortment of office supplies and miscellaneous non-perishable groceries and a few craft items which she realizes must have some purpose, despite her being unable to fathom one. Grumbling, she closes the cabinet, then retreats into the common room, where most of her staff eats lunch. There’s a thin little napkin tucked to a plastic package with a spork—again, something she muses must serve some purpose that she doesn’t quite understand—and then she spots a roll of paper towel and grabs it, chuckling softly to herself as she thinks this might be preferable, given her son’s eating habits. 

“Henry, I found s…” her voice halts, as she sees Henry, crouching on the floor in front of a shattered lamp, some of the larger shards of porcelain in his hand. “HENRY! STOP!” She hears herself exclaim, her voice louder and harsher than she intended, as she tosses the paper towel onto a shelf by the door and her heart leaps into her throat. “What are you doing!?” He flinches and then looks up at her, his jaw trembling as tears fill his eyes. “ _Don’t_ touch it!”

“But, I…” He stops and the pieces of broken porcelain fall from his shaky hands. “I’m sorry.” She swallows hard she watches as he scrambles to his feet, looking up at her with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to do it. I swear I didn’t mean to!” 

“Are you okay!?” She asks, her heart still pounding wildly and her voice still louder than she wants it to be. Henry barely nods, then his face begins to crumble as he looks away from her, repeating again and again that he’s sorry. Her heart clenches and she reaches for his hand, carefully leading him around the broken lamp. “What happened?” She asks as they sit together on the couch, her voice softening as her heart beat finally begins to slow down.

“I…I was pretending it was a…a bad guy and I…” His bottom lip beings to quiver and he looks back at the shattered lamp. “I’ll clean it up…”

“I don’t want you to do that Henry.”

“But I…I broke it.”

“I know,” she says softly, tipping her head a little as she watches him stare at the lamp. “Henry, can you look at me?”

“I won’t do it again, I promise.” He murmurs, still not looking back at her. “I’ll never break anything again.”

“Yes you will,” she tells him, with a slight chuckle behind her words “Henry, I need you to look at me.” Slowly, she reaches out and turns his chin toward her. “Look at me,” she says, waiting until he willingly turns his head the rest of the way and his teary eyes meet hers. Her heart clenches at the uncertainty she finds in them and the tracks on his cheeks. “Do I look like I’m mad at you?” 

“No,” he murmurs. “But…sometimes…” His voice trails off and his eyes fall away from hers. “Sometimes when people get mad, you can’t tell. So you don’t really know…”

“I’m _not mad_ , Henry,” she interjects in a soft, yet firm voice. “And I’m sorry that I raised my voice. I was just…scared.” He blinks a few times and looks up at her. “I just afraid you were going to cut yourself.” A small smile tugs onto her lips and she nudges his arm, “And it would be unfortunate if you had to miss out on the paraded and trick-or-treating to get stitches.” 

Henry’s quiet for a minute, his brow furrowing as he stares at the rug beneath him, chewing at his lip. “I…I was afraid that…you’d send me back.”  

“Send you back?” She repeats, the words stabbing at her heart as a wave of guilt hits her. “Why would you think that?” Henry shrugs his shoulders and continues to stare out at the rug. Her chest tightens as Henry lets out a shaky breath. “Henry?”

“Because that’s what they said would happen if I…I did things that made them mad.” He blinks back his tears and looks over at her. “My foster mom said it happened before.”

“Wh-what?” She asks, pushing out the word as it sticks to the back of her throat and her heart beat begins to quicken. “What happened before?”

“I was almost adopted, but…the lady who was going to adopt me gave me back,” he murmurs as he looks up at her. “They said I was bad, so she gave me back.”

Suddenly her mouth is dry and her stomach churns. Her heart beats faster and faster, so loudly that she can hear it pounding in her ears, as she reaches out and rubs her hand between his shoulders. “I can assure you of two things,” she begins, doing her best to keep her voice even and soft. “The first is that…whatever happened all those years ago, it wasn’t anything you did. It wasn’t your fault.” He nods but she can tell that he doesn’t believe her, and it makes her heart ache knowing that her mistake was used to hurt him. “And second,” she said, taking a breath. “Is that I am _never_ going to do that. I love you, Henry.” He offers her a lopsided grin and a little nod as her arm slides around his shoulders and she edges closer to him. “And you know what else?” He shakes his head and looks up at her. “There’s going to be a point when I get mad. There’s going to be a point when I lose my temper—and you know what else? There’s going to be a point where you get mad and lose your tempter, too.” Leaning in, she presses a kiss into his hair. “It won’t ever mean that I love you any less and it won’t mean that…that I’m going to give you back.” 

“Okay,” Henry says in a small voice. “I am sorry about the lamp though.”

“I know you are, sweetie,” she said, squeezing him into her side as she hugs him tightly and struggles to keep her tears at bay.  

_____

By the time they leave her office for the parade, Henry has long forgotten that he’d been upset about anything, and he’s resumed his excited chatter as they walked down Main Street. Still, there was a knot in her stomach that just won’t go away, and tightens every time she looks at him.  

She’d never intended to hurt him; and in spite of all the people she had hurt over the years, she’d never do anything to hurt him. Yet, as always, her intentions didn’t really matter. It didn’t matter that she’d given him up so that he would be happy and safe, surrounded by people who knew how to love. She’d never imagined that his life would turn out as it did and she’d never imagined that that one, fateful decision would be used to hurt him and make him feel inadequate, that her insecurity had turned into his; and she never imagined that even when she wasn’t there, she was still able to hurt him.

“I’ve never seen a Halloween parade,” Henry muses, peering curiously down Main Street, taking in the costumed-children lining the streets with their parents standing nearby. “We didn’t have anything like this in my old neighborhood,” he tells her looking up at her with a grin. “At least not that I ever saw.”   

“Oh, well, you know how small towns are…lots of quirky little traditions.”

“Yeah…”

“So, after the parade, I have to give a speech,” she tells him. “It’s short, but…”

“Can we stand at the end of the parade route, then? Or do we have to miss it?”

“The end of the route is fine,” she says with a small smile. “I can probably get to the podium in time.”

“Or he can stand with us,” Robin says, coming up behind them. “Then you don’t have to rush.” Regina smiles as Robin approaches. He’s holding Roland’s hand, who is dressed as the Hulk, and he’s carrying something she can’t quite make out over his shoulder—and Roland is doing the same. “Because even if you stand at the end, you’d have to practically run up to that little stage and,” she watches as a grin twists onto his lips, “while I have no experience to pull from, I’d imagine that _those shoes_ would be difficult to run in.”

She looks down at her heels and chuckles softly. “I’ve never tried it, but you’re probably right,” she replies, looking back up at him. “Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble? He’s…awfully hyper tonight.” She glances over at Henry, watching as Roland shows off the details of his costume. “I wouldn’t want to…”

“You’re not imposing,” Robin interjects. “Besides, Roland’s been driving me crazy, practically bouncing off the walls.” He grins. “I’m sure the story I’ve heard four-hundred times about how cool he thinks his sand art pumpkin is will be much more interesting to Henry, who hasn’t heard it.”

“Okay,” she breathes out in concession. “Thank you.”     

“No need to thank me,” he says gingerly. “So, we’ll meet you up at the stage when it’s over and then the four of us can proceed to the main event and collect as much sugar as possible.”

She laughs and nods, as Robin offers her a little wink as his arm slips around Henry’s shoulders and he guides him to the edge of the curb where he and Roland had been standing. She reluctantly takes a few steps backward and smiles as she watches Robin with their boys, watching as Roland shows Henry a green and purple drawstring bag and then Robin pulls a red and blue one off his shoulder and hands it to Henry. Her heart begins to beat a little faster and her stomach flutters as she watches Henry hold it up, and she can see there’s a Captain America symbol on the front of it. And then, she watches as Henry pushes forward, hugging Robin as Robin’s hand cups the back of his head and tussles his hair. She takes another reluctant step back, watching as Robin pulls back and lifts Roland onto his shoulder, then hugs Henry back against his legs as the high school marching band begins to play, marking the start of the parade.

From the stage she watches as goblins and ghosts dance down Main Street and zombies toss tootsie rolls and jolly ranchers at the kids lining the street. All of the local businesses have banners or floats and she watches as one of the men from Robin’s store jumps down to hand Henry and Roland two large candy bars. Finally, she sees the flashing lights of the police car and she hears Graham’s voice on a megaphone reminding the kids to be safe and have fun, and then everyone’s proceeding to the town square. She gives a short speech, echoing the sentiments for safety and fun, reminding families that businesses marked with black-and-orange balloons will have games and contests for the kids. The crowd begins to disperse, some heading back down Main Street to check out the local businesses and others passing by her toward to begin going door-to-door for trick-or-treating.

“Excellent speech, Madam Mayor.”

“Yeah, you did a good job, Mom,” Henry tells her.

“You did!” Roland exclaims echoing Robin and Henry’s sentiments with an eager nod. “Can start with trick-or-treating?”

“Roland…” Robin murmurs, nudging his son and shaking his head. 

“Of course we can,” Regina answers, before turning her eyes back up to Robin. “And thank you.” Reaching out, she touches her fingers to drawstring back that Henry’s holding. “This was very kind.”

“Isn’t it cool?” Henry asks, “Robin made it.”

“You made it?” She asks, her eyes growing wide. “As in, you…sewed it?”

 Robin chuckles softly and nods. “I used a pattern and everything.”

“That’s…impressive. I didn’t know that you could sew.”

“Neither did I,” Robin tells her, a small chuckle behind his words. “But you inspired me.” Her eyebrows arch and Robin winks at her as the four of them start forward, Henry and Roland leading the way toward the first subdivision off of Main Street.  “Oh, I have something for you,” he says, holding out a plastic lidded coffee mug. “I forgot I was holding two.”

She takes it, grinning as the warmth from the coffee spreads up through her hands. “Thank you,” she tells him as she takes a short sip. “This…isn’t from Granny’s.”

“No,” he murmurs in reply, as he takes a sip from his own mug, grinning over the lid. “It’s my own special blend. It’s of the Irish variety.” She laughs out and takes a longer sip. “I figured it’s going to be a long night and we could both probably use a bit of a pick-me-up.”

She nods and once more feels a fluttering in her chest, “Well, I appreciate it. This was…very thoughtful.”

They continue on, sipping the coffee and following the boys up and down street after street—and she’s almost able to forget what Henry had told her that afternoon, But the the knot that formed in her stomach when he told her about his almost-adoption is still there, and still nagging, unwilling to let her forget for more than few minutes. When she hears him laugh, it’s bittersweet—she’s glad that he’s happy now, but hates that it took him eight years to find that feeling. She watches him wave at the little girl from his class who had helped him with the math problems that morning, smiling when she waves back to him—and again, it’s bittersweet knowing he could have had friends so much sooner and knowing they could still be torn away from him—all because of her. She barely notices when they boys approach the house of the Storybrooke’s only dentist—who she remembers best as the incorrigible tooth fairy—crinkling their noses and exchanging disappointed looks as they walk away and pull packaged toothbrushes out of their bags, then drop them back in with sighs.  

“You’re awfully quiet,” Robin says, nudging her arm with his elbow as they continue down the street.

“I’m just tired…”   

“Are you sure?”

“No,” she replies in a barely audible voice, slowly looking over at him. “I…I kind of snapped at Henry today.”

“Oh and…I assume that it was the first time?”

“It was,” she confirms with a nod. “I…didn’t mean to and I didn’t really snap at him. We were eating a quick dinner in my office and I went to find some napkins, and when I came back, he was on the floor kneeling in front of a broken lamp with these big shards of porcelain in his little hands and…”

“You were afraid...”

“I thought he was going to cut himself.”

“I would have had the same reaction…”

“But he thought…” she turns to look at him. “He thought I was angry with him and…he thought that I was going to send him back.”

“Oh…”

“Apparently, his foster family used to tell him that if he did something wrong, he’d be sent back.”

“That’s terrible,” Robin says in a soft voice. “Who could do that to a little kid?”

“It happened to him once before,” she says, her voice cracking a little as she looks away from him. “I…”

“What do you mean?”

“When Henry was a baby,” she begins, taking a shaky breath. “He was almost adopted.”

“And it fell through?”

Regina nods, “Kind of.”

“Oh…” Her heart beats faster and  her jaw tightens as tears well in her eyes—she wants to tell him, she was to talk to someone about this, and she wants someone else to tell her that it’s okay, because no matter how many times she says it to herself, she doesn’t believe it—and because she trusts him and it would mean something to her he were the one to say it. “Regina?”

“I just…” she stops and shakes her head. “I just wish I could change things for him,” she says instead. 

“You _are_ changing things for him,” Robin insists. “Every day, you are changing things for him.”

She nods and takes a sip of the coffee, inhaling a deep breath as she looks back at him. “I’m just…I’m so afraid of hurting him.” 

“You won’t,” Robin tells her in a soft voice. “I know that you’re new to the parenting thing, but you’re good at it. You’re a good mom and Henry is lucky to have you.” A smile creeps onto his lips. “I snap at Roland at least ten times a day. It doesn’t mean I love him any less or that he doesn’t know that I love him. And it’s the same for Henry—he knows that you love him.” Her breath catches as Robin reaches for her hand and gives it a soft, reassuring squeeze. “You’re his very own personal savior.”

She laughs a little—he doesn’t know the irony of his words, but in spite of that, she does feel a little better—and she supposes she’s just going to have to live with the guilt, and do her best to make up for the things she can’t change—just as she always has.

“Uh, so this is probably a bad time to say this,” Robin begins, his eyes scanning the crowded sidewalk. “But I think it’s possible that we’ve lost our sons.”

Regina looks up and before she can panic, she spots Henry and Roland leaning against a tree a few houses up the street, arms crossed as they tap their feet impatiently, waiting for their parents to catch up. She smiles and it’s only then that she realizes Robin is still holding onto her hand.

Quickly, she looks down at his fingers curled loosely round her palm and momentarily, considers withdrawing. “We didn’t lose them,” she says as her she closes her hand over his, giving him a gentle tug. “They’re over there, giving us the evil eye.” Robin laughs and follows her lead as they rejoin the boys and continue on trick-or-treating.

_____

She’s exhausted when she crawls into bed.  

Henry fell asleep on the couch as they were sorting his candy—chocolates in one bowl, fruity and gummy candies in another, and then a pile of things he wouldn’t eat to save his own life and the toothbrush in another. She’d carried him upstairs and changed him out of his costume, awkwardly pulling him into his pajamas. She’d sat on the edge of his bed for awhile, watching him as he slept and remembering how, in those few weeks that he’d been hers all those years before, she used to love to hold him and watch his little eyelids flutter as he dreamt. She sits there at his bedside, pushing her fingers into his hair and stroking him gently and thinking about all of the things she’d missed until she’d been barely able to keep her eyes open. So, she’d leaned in and kissed his forehead, saying goodnight and telling him that she loved him in a soft voice.

She’d tuned out his light and flicked on the nightlight, and then gone down the hall to her own room. She changed out of her clothes and took a quick shower, then changed into her pajamas and flipped on the alarm clock. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow and she was only vaguely aware of the rain beginning to tap on the rooftop…

“Mom?”

“Yes, Henry?” She’d asks, barely lifting her head up as she struggles to open her eyes.

“Can I…sleep in here?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmurs, peeling back the covers.

She hears him padding across the floor, then feels him get into the bed. He slips beneath the blanket and she pulls him close, a smile stretching onto her lips when he rolls onto his stomach and rests his head on her shoulder. She draws the blanket up around him and rests her head atop his.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“No…” he murmurs in reply. “But it’s raining and…I just…I’m worried it’s going to turn into a storm.” She presses a kiss into his hair. She tries to reply, but she can’t. So, instead she rubs her hand lazily over his little back as she drifts back to sleep. “Mom?”

“Yes, Henry?” she murmurs groggily.

“I just…I just wanted to say that…that even thought I haven’t said it, I...” She feels him swallow hard and this time, her eyes flutter open. “I love you.”

A smile tugs onto her lips and she leans in and presses another kiss to the top of his head, “I love you, too, Henry.”

“I know you do,” he tells her, his tired voice full of confidence—and the knot in her stomach loosens just a little bit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry gets sick and Regina turns to Robin for help.

Regina is tired as she steps out of the shower and reaches for her towel, patting herself dry and knotting her hair up into the towel. She reaches for her robe and pulls it tight around herself, before turning off the bathroom light and opening the door. She steps quietly and carefully through her bedroom, not wanting to wake Henry just yet.

She smiles gently in the direction of the bed, unable to see him, but knowing that he’s there. He wasn’t able to sleep the night before, so he’d crawled into bed with her and let her hold him as he fell back into a fitful sleep. She’d cuddled him close, stroking his hair and trying desperately to soothe him away from the nightmares she couldn’t stop. It occurred to her that perhaps sessions with Archie Hopper might help—after all, they’d helped her—but he was so resistant to social workers and psychologists that she never brought it up, afraid that it would do more harm than good. 

More than anything, she wishes she could crawl back into bed and cuddle him close to her, letting her eyes drift closed as she fell back asleep until at least her normal wake-up time. But as she laid in bed the night before, listening to Henry’s whimpering breaths as he tossed and turned against her, she couldn’t stop thinking about that moment in her office the day before and the fear in his eyes when he’d asked her if she was going to send him back and the way he’d hung his head when he’d explained that it had happened to him before—and as angry as she was a this foster parents for letting him believe that had been his fault, that they made him feel unworthy and unlovable, she was angrier with herself for having believed giving him up had been the right choice—and she was angry at herself for making him feel those things.

There hadn’t been a day that went by that she didn’t think about him. She’d find herself wondering what he was doing and what he’d look like at certain stages of his life. She wondered if he liked certain things and disliked others, and when she walked past the room that was supposed to be his, she’d felt a hallow feeling inside of herself as if a piece of herself was missing. 

Deep down, she knew that giving him up was a mistake—she knew it then as much as she did now—but she’d been so blinded by her secrets and the curse and all of her inadequacies that she’d convinced herself that it wasn’t. But she wasn’t going to let the past repeat itself, she wasn’t going to make the same mistake and she wasn’t going to allow her god-forsaken curse to dictate her life—and certainly wasn’t going to allow it to dictate Henry’s.

She was determined to find away to break the curse and she suspected the answer—or at least something that could lead her to it—was with her personal things brought over with the curse, things she kept stored away in vault. There, she had books of spells and lore, supernatural relics powerful enough to evoke magical forces even in a land where magic didn’t exist, potions and poisons, and, of course, her collection of hearts. Swallowing hard, she took a breath, not wanting to think of the time in her life where ripping out hearts became her preferred way to cope; it seemed so long ago—and truly, it was—and she felt so disconnected from the person she once was. She’s not quite sure when Regina Mills stopped being the Evil Queen—and she could  only hope that when the curse broke, Henry would be able to see that and he’d be able to understand.

Her plan was to do some of her work at home—checking emails and sending out memos, approving a couple of pending projects and other menial tasks that would have otherwise taken up her morning. Then, she could spend the morning in her vault—and Henry would never have to know any of it. Stifling a yawn, she pulled the closet open and blindly reached for a dress…

 “M-mom?” Henry asks, as she turns toward the bed, hearing him sniffle a bit as he sits up. “I…I don’t feel very good.”

A grin tugs at one corner of her mouth as she reaches for the light switch. “Well, maybe that’s because you ate so much of your can…”

Her voice halts as the light flicks on. He’s sitting up her bed wearing an expression she’s never seen before. His skin looks paler than it did the day before and his eyes are sunken in. Quickly, she crosses the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, her stomach dropping as she feels a pang of guilt for suggesting that somehow, he’d caused himself to feel this way or that he wasn’t really sick. She presses her hand to his forehead, finding that it’s clammy and warm, despite the fact that he shivers and tries to sink lower into the blanket.

 Her heart aches as it begins to beat faster—and as he looks at him looking up at her with wide hazel eyes as if asking her to fix him—she realizes she doesn’t know what to do.

“I think I have a temperature.”

“I think you do, too,” she says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the top of his head as her hands gently push his shoulders back. “Just…close your eyes, okay? I’m going to get the thermometer.”

She gets up and goes back into the bathroom, staring blankly into the medicine cabinet in search of a thermometer. She pushes around half used bottles of lotion and forgotten spools of floss as she tries to find it and when she does, she finds herself growing frantic—because she still doesn’t know what to do.

She’ll take his temperature, of course—but what’s supposed to come after that, she doesn’t know. She’s rarely sick and when she is, she just wraps herself in a couple of blankets and sleeps it off. When she wakes the next morning, she’s usually better and can go about her day as usual. She’s never paid much attention to commercials about cough medicines and heating pads and she’s not sure she’s ever ventured into that section of the pharmacy. And even if she did know how to properly care for herself when she’s sick, it’s supposed to be different with kids—who require special serums and dosages, whose little bodies aren’t fully developed, who require constant care…

She sighs and shuts the cabinet; her hands are practically shaking as she steps back into the bedroom with the thermometer. Taking a breath she goes back to the bed, gently pushing her fingers through the hair that stuck to his forehead. Henry’s eyes flutter open and he opens his mouth as she uncaps the thermometer. His lips close around it and she takes a breath, eyeing the clock on her nightstand and waiting to withdraw it. She know what it is going to say—its going confirm that he has a fever and it’ll show her a number and she still won’t really know what to do.

Slowly, she withdraws the thermometer and again, he looks up expectantly, watching as she looks down at it and watching as she breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s not very high,” she tells him, “Just high enough to make you miserable.”

“It’s doing a good job.”

She smiles meekly. “So, I guess it’s no school today.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees in a barely audible voice. “I guess not.”

She takes a breath and continues to stroke her fingers though his hair, wishing more than anything she could trade places with him and hating that he looks and feels so miserable. “So, tell me, what else is going on? Does your stomach hurt?”

“N-not exactly.” She tips her head and he sighs. “Like, it doesn’t feel like I ate something bad or like I’m going to throw up, but it doesn’t feel…good.” He sniffles again. “It kinda feels like I got punched.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as he wiggles his nose. “Well, I know you’re sniffly…”

“Everything hurts,” he says as tears fill his eyes. “My legs and my arms hurt, and my teeth hurt, even my _hair_ hurts.” He sniffles again and she reaches to the night stand where a box of Kleenex sits. She pulls out a few and hands him one, tucking the others under his pillow as his face crumbles. “And I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” She murmurs, feeling so helpless and wishing more than anything she could magic it all away. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m thirsty…”

“Okay,” she murmurs, leaning in a pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I can get you some water. I’ll be…”

“Can I have juice?” He interjects, as a hint of a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

She nods and laughs a little, leaning in once more to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Henry nods and closes his eyes, and she exhales a short breath as she heads downstairs. She pulls the towel off of her head, tossing it down on the counter. Standing in front of the refrigerator, she blinks, running her hands through her hair, hating that the only thing she knows about taking care of sick children are things she saw in movies and on TV. Rolling her eyes, she reaches for the orange juice and and pours it into a plastic cup—grinning as she realizes it’s one that a lemonade slush came in at Coney Island when they went on his birthday. She presses on the top and sticks in the straw, practically jogging as she goes back up the stairs. 

“I hope orange juice is okay with you because…” She stops as she turns into the room and her chest constricts a little, and she can’t help but smile.

Henry’s head is tipped to the side, resting on both her pillow and his shoulder. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily, almost but not quite snoring. She looks briefly at the cup of juice and sets it down on the nightstand. She sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls the blanket up around him and again, looks at the clock on her nightstand. It’s nearly five and in a couple of hours, the doctor’s office will be open. She takes a breath and reaches for her phone, flipping it open and dialing at attendance office at Storybrooke Elementary to leave a message to inform them that he’ll be out sick, and then once she’s done, she crawls into the bed beside him. Stretching an arm around him and he instinctively nuzzles back against her in his sleep and holds him close her, remembering an article she read when he was a colicky baby who didn’t sleep that said human contact was sometimes the most soothing thing for children. Resting her head atop his she strokes her fingers up and down his arm, hoping that when he wakes up, he’ll feel better.

_____

When Henry wakes up, she’s still there with him, watching as his little eyes flutter open and he grimaces. He blinks a few times and tries to take a breath, but it comes out as a whimper.

“Not feeling any better?” She asks gently.

He shakes his head and tries to pull himself up, but can’t seem to manage. She sighs and shakes her head, hating seeing him sick, but feeling a bit more assured than she was earlier in the morning. While he was sleeping, she managed to get in touch with the doctor, who gave her some suggestions for getting down his fever and how to keep him comfortable. And though she hadn’t been thrilled with the _just watch it and see how he does throughout the day_ advice he’d given her _,_ she does feel more at ease.

She gets off the bed circles around it, sitting at the edge as she reaches for the Children’s Tylenol, pouring the thick red cherry-flavored liquid into the little cup that it came with—something in her possession thanks to an early morning call to her secretary.

“Can you sit up a little?” She asks him, guiding her hand behind him to help him sit up. “There we go.” She hands him the little cup and he drinks it without question, scrunching up his nose as he downs the medicine. “That bad?”

“Not good,” he says with a little sniffle. “But not that bad.”

“Well, you won’t have to drink more for another four to six hours.” He grins a little and she feels her own smile pulling at her lips. “Do you want to get up? Go downstairs or maybe to your room?”

Rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, he yawns and again grimaces as he tries to swallow. “You’re here?”

“I am…”

“You’re supposed to be at work though?”

“I’m supposed to be right here with you.”

“But, it’s Tuesday. You work on Tuesdays.”

“Henry, you’re sick,” she says gently. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone.”

He blinks a couple of times. “So, you’re going to be here? All day?” She nods, cocking her head to the side, surprised that he seems genuinely shocked that she’s staying home with him. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“No one’s ever stayed with you when you were sick?” He nods and she feels her chest tighten as her eyes widen—and once more she’s overwhelmed with a sense of hate for the people who were meant to care for him, but she pushes it away, choosing to focus her thoughts and attention on him. “Well, I promise you. I am not going anywhere.” He smiles a little and nods and lies back against the pillow. “I’ve got a pot of chicken soup on the stove and I made popsicles…”

“You _made_ them?”

“Well, we didn’t have any and I forgot to tell my secretary…”

“Can we make them sometime?” He cuts in, his voice cracking with both excitement and a cough. “When I’m better can you show me how?”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Do you want to try one?”

He nods and again swallows hard, grimacing a little as he does, “Can I watch cartoons on the couch?”

“Of course you can.”

“Will you watch with me?”

“Try and stop me,” she says, as a small grin creeps onto her lips.

A few minutes later, they’re both settled together on the couch watching _The Great Mouse Detective_. He’s lying against her with his legs stretched out on the couch, sucking on a cran-raspberry popsicle as she combs her fingers absently through his hair. He feels less clammy and his hair isn’t sweat-soaked as it was earlier in the day and when he giggles when Basil and Dawson climb aboard Toby and ride off to save Olivia—and a sense of relief washes over her when she realizes the medicine is helping.

She sits with him through the whole movie—watching as Basil tracks Fidget’s scent, Basil and Dawson dress as sailors and sneak into The Rat Trap, as the evil Ratigan nearly feeds the Queen to his cat and finally, as Olivia and her father are reunited. Throughout the movie, she supplies him Kleenex as he continues to sniffle and bat his hand over the back of his nose, and she finds her thoughts drifting to what his life must have been link in New York. She can’t help but wonder how many times in his short life he felt this way and had no one there to comfort him—how many times she wasn’t there to comfort him; and she wondered what he did, how he took care of himself and whether or not he’d been scared…

She cuddles him closer drops a kiss atop his head and tries to ignore the guilt she feels for her part in his unhappiness. As the movie ends, she realizes that he’s fallen asleep again. “I’m so sorry, Henry,” she whispers as she strokes her fingers through his hair as she listens to his ragged breathing.

_____

They get through the rest of the day with more Children’s Tylenol, chicken soup and popsicles. By the time he gets into bed, his fever is still there, but much lower and he’s much more comfortable than he was throughout the day. He grins and asks her to read to him, and she’s all too happy to oblige, reading him four chapters of _Prince Caspian_ before he finally nods off, an hour before his normal bedtime.   

And it’s only then that she feels how tired she actually is. She takes a quick shower and changes into the clean pajamas and checks on Henry once more before going to her office and doing some of the work she’d intended to do that morning; and then, after a few, long hours, she goes to bed.

As soon as her head hits the pillow, she’s practically asleep and then next thing she’s aware of is her eyes fluttering open hours later. She sits up and looks at the clock—it’s nearly two in the morning—and then a moment later, she hears Henry crying down the hall. She’s suddenly awake and pushing herself out of bed, her heart racing as she pads down the hall to his bedroom. She flicks on the light and her heart begins beating faster as she Henry tosses and turns in his bed. His pajamas are soaked and his hair is matted to his forehead and his clutching the blanket so tightly that his knuckles are white. He’s practically shaking, shivering as she sits down at the edge of his bed, pressing her hand to his clammy forehead—he’s burning up. 

“Henry…Henry, are you awake?”

“Uh-huh…” he whimpers, not opening his eyes.

Her stomach drops as she reaches for the thermometer on the nightstand, shaking it a few times before sticking it under his tongue. His jaw continues to tremble as she holds it shut with two of her fingers—and the minute it takes to register his temperature seems to last an eternity.

Finally, she pulls it from his lips and his eyes flutter open, watching as she holds it up to the light to read. She can feel him watching her and it takes everything in her to keep a straight face when she see his temperature is just over a hundred and three degrees. She lets out a shallow breath as she looks back at him, wishing more than anything there was a doctor in Storybrooke who hadn’t gotten their medical degree from a damned curse.

“I’m going to call the doctor, okay?” She says anyway, mustering a small smile.

“Yeah…”

Leaning in, she kisses his forehead and reaches for a blanket that’s folded on the chair by his bed. She fans it out and tucks it around him as he looks up at her with teary eyes and she promises him that everything will be okay. He nods and closes his eyes as she leaves, practically running to her bedroom to the phone. She dials the number, but instead of a person, she gets an automated system that asks her to leave a message and informs her that a doctor will return her call shortly.

She does and then flips her phone shut, as a sense of helplessness washes over her—and then, without thinking, she flips the phone back open and dials. And as soon as she hears his voice, her eyes sink closed and embarrassment flushes her cheeks.

“He-llo?” Robin asks again, his voice groggy—clearly before she’d called he’d been asleep. “Hello?”

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” she replies, grimacing as she realizes her mistake. “Hang up and…”

“Regina?” He asks, sounding confused but not upset. “Regina, what’s wrong?” And once more, Robin’s voice piques with an emotion that is clearly not anger. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you. It’s late and you were obviously sleeping, and…”

“And I’m up now,” he interjects in an easy voice. “So, why don’t you tell me why you called me at fourteen minutes after two in the morning.”

She feels her chest constrict and she takes a breath, not really knowing what to say or what compelled her to call him. She’d done it on impulse, not really thinking it through and not even really thinking about him, only wanting to talk to someone who might understand and might be able to help

“I…I don’t know what to do,” she squeaks out. “Henry’s still sick and he has a fever and it just keeps going up and I called the doctor, but he has to call me back because it’s after two in the morning and like any normal person, he’s probably asleep.”  

“They always get worse at night,” Robin tells her with a sigh.

“It’s so much worse,” she sighs. “When I called you earlier to cancel dinner, things seemed to be getting better. I know it was just the Tylenol working, but he was up and talking and…”

“How high is his fever?” He cuts in. “How much has it gone up?”

“It’s about a hundred and three…”

“Okay,” he breathes out. “That’s really high, but it’s not dangerous. He’s going to be okay.”

“He’s shaking and sweaty and…he’s…”  She knows that she’s babbling and she knows that she shouldn’t be bothering him with this, but there’s something so soothing about his soft voice—and she’s tried and scared, and so afraid of doing something wrong. “It’s so hard seeing him like this and…”

“Regina, he’s going to be fine. This is just temporary, remember that, okay?”

“I just feel so…”

“Helpless,” he says, filling in the word when her voice trails off and words fail her. “I know. I get it.” He laughs a little and she can hear him rustling around. “You are talking to a man who once took his child to the emergency room when he broke up in a rash after dinner.”

“That doesn’t seem irrational to me…”

“It was jelly, Regina.”

“Oh…”

“You’re new to this and it’s tough at first, but it does get easier.” His voice is so calm and so soothing and her eyes close for just a moment as she takes a deep breath and nods, trying to believe him. “This is the first time he’s been sick, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay, so I assume you called looking for advice…”

“I…I suppose so,” she murmurs, as her eyes open—that does make more sense than the ‘I just don’t know why’ reason she’d been working with. “So, as a seasoned veteran, what do you think might work to bring his fever down?”

Robin chuckles softly and then shares some of the things that have worked on Roland. He suggests more of the Tylenol—gently teasing her when she questions the four-to-six hour time frame—and reminding her that it’s just acetaminophen and can’t hurt him. Then, he suggests warm compresses—so, she keeps him on the phone and goes into the bathroom, grabbing a few washcloths and running them under warm water. She rings them out—still keeping him on the phone—and goes back to Henry’s room, finding that’s already dozed off again. She hates to wake him, but she does, sitting at the edge of his bed as she reaches for the Tylenol on his night stand. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear, she pours him a little and he takes it in his limp hand. Henry looks up at her with hooded eyes as she eases him back, laying one of the cloths across his forehead and the nestling the other behind his neck. He tries to smile and then shivers a little, telling her it feels good as his eyes sink closed.

She listens as Robin instructs her to take the last wash cloth and sponge it over Henry’s chest—his voice and assuredness soothing her worries and making her feel like she actually is in control of this, like there’s something she can other than watch her son suffer through it. Opening his pajama top, she slides it over his chest, feeling his heart beat and his lungs inflate and deflate with each labored breath he takes.

“Alright, now this next bit is very important,” Robin says.

“Okay…”

“I need you to go downstairs and unlock your front door.” She sits up a little straighter and looks in the direction of the stairs, her brow furrowing slightly. “I’m standing on your porch and it’s a bit chilly out.”

“I…” She blinks a couple of times, not quite believing him as she looks back at Henry. “I can’t believe you came over,” she murmurs as she gets up and heads toward the stairs. “You really didn’t need to do that. It was bad enough that I called you in the middle of the night and…” She reaches the bottom of the stairs and steps into the foyer, opening the door. “…and woke you up.”

“I wanted to,” he says easily, flipping his phone shut and smiling warmly. “Besides, I have something for you—something I couldn’t just explain over the phone.” She can’t help but smile as she steps aside, letting him in. She chuckles softly as she shuts the door, looking at the way Roland is slung over his shoulder, still clad in his pajamas and seemingly undisturbed from his sleep. “But first, where can I put this?” He asks, patting the back of Roland’s legs. “He’ll sleep through anything and on anything, but my shoulder’s getting a bit tired.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, chuckling softly as she motions to the living room. “You can set him on the couch. There’s…blankets and a pillow and…”

“That’s perfect,” Robin says, smiling at her as he steps into the room and settles Roland on the couch, brushing the messy curls from the little boys forehead before smiling warmly and coming back to her, holding out a brown paper bag that she hadn’t noticed before. “I think this will help.”

Curiously, she opens the bag and pulls out a jar, screwing off the top as the smell of peppermint wafts through the air. “This smells amazing…”

“It’s my own special blend—coconut oil, mixed with some peppermint and elder flower tea.” He taps the lid and offers her a wink that makes her smile yet again. “It helps with fevers and flu symptoms—it’s Roland-test and approved.”

“This is…so thoughtful,” she says in earnest, looking up at him and letting her eyes hold his gaze. “I…I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, “Don’t mention it? Robin, I woke you up in the middle of the night, acting like a complete basket-case, and you…show up and you…”

“Regina,” he interjects. “Parenting can be really scary—and single parenting can be even scarier.” Gently, he reaches out and gives her hand a little squeeze, holding her fingers and rubbing his over her knuckles. “Besides, it’s a Tuesday—or it was—and I missed seeing you—and I’ll take any excuse I can get.”

She looks down at their hands and then slowly back up at him, remembering how they’d held hands the night before as they boys trick-or-treated, not saying anything and just letting it happen. She swallows had as he reluctantly pulls away, offering her a lopsided grin as he hands her the bag. “Why don’t you go slather that all over Henry and I’ll go in the kitchen and make us some tea.” She finds herself nodding as his smile tugs tighter. “And, um, there’s something from Roland in the bag.”

She nods and watches as he walks toward the kitchen. Peeking into the bag, she sees a folded piece of paper and when she withdraws it, she can see Henry’s name—written in Roland’s handwriting—on the front. Slowly, she opens it and her breath catches in her chest. Roland drew him a picture—what looks like a family picture—of Robin and her and Henry and himself in front of a table that she recognizes as her own. She feels a rush of emotion and tears well in her eyes as her runs her hand over the picture. There’s a note at the bottom—written first in Robin’s handwriting, then traced in crayon by Roland—that says ‘Get Well Soon. We miss you.’

Taking a breath, she folds it back up and turns toward the stairs, going up to Henry’s room. She smiles, relieved that he’s still asleep, as she pushes herself into the room and sets Roland’s card on his night stand. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she opens the jar, inhaling deeply and taking in the crisp peppermint scent as she dips her fingers into it and rubs it over Henry’s chest.

His eyes flutter open and he looks down at her hand, then back up at her, offering just a hint of a smile. “What’s that?”

“Something Robin brought over to help with your fever.”

“It smells good.”

“It does,” she says with a nod. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again. “Do you want me to warm the wash cloths up?”

“No,” he murmurs. “It feels good, even if it is cold.”

“Okay,” she says in a soft voice, as she twists the cap back onto the jar. “If it gets too cold just drop them onto the floor. I’ll put them in the hamper in the morning.”

“Okay…” he says, again inhaling deeply as a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Leaning in, she presses a kiss to his forehead, then pulls the blanket up around him, then pulls away as she murmurs that she loves him. He barely nods and again inhales a deep breath as she gets up and turns out of the light heading back downstairs to the kitchen.

Robin is there, steeping two cups of tea—and she feels something she can’t quite place stirring at her core. “I think the Tylenol is kicking back in,” she says, taking a breath and pushing away the feeling. “He seemed more comfortable.”

“I’m glad.”

“He liked the peppermint, too,” she says as a grin tugs at her lips. “Really, it was so kind of you to bring it over.” Robin just nods as he reaches for a jar of honey, mixing in just a little bit before sliding her one of the mugs. “Thank you,” she murmurs, looking up at him with wide, sincere eyes. “And not just for the tea.”

“I meant what I said—parenting is tough.” He takes a breath and his eyes fall away from hers, and then slowly move back. “Besides, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, or for Henry.”

“Robin…”

“Relax. You said you just wanted to be friends and I respect that,” he says as his demeanor changes. “I just mean and you and I Henry have come to mean a lot to me and if there’s something I can do to help—whether it’s talking you off of the ledge at two in the morning or walking half way across town to give you a fever reducer—I’ll do it. And you don’t have to thank me or feel like you owe me, it’s just…what friends do for each other.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s what family does for each other.”

“You…think of Henry and me as family?”

“Well, yeah—friends, family…it’s a gray area.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she murmurs, suddenly feeling very awkward. “I’ve never really had either.”

Slipping her fingers through the handle of the mug, she lifts it and takes a long sip, thinking back to the years she spent in this house, and how quiet it always was and how alone she felt. She thinks of how odd it had felt that first time Robin and Roland had come over for dinner, and she thinks of how few people have ever sat in this kitchen and talked to her. Even in the Enchanted Forest, even before her descent into darkness, she’d never had a friend who she could count on and rely on, who showed even when she didn’t ask, who cared enough to go out of their way—a friend who perhaps loved her. And even now, she can’t help but think that none of this is real.

Hot tears well in her eyes as she thinks of everything she has to lose—before Henry she’d never even considered breaking the curse, not even her bitter loneliness had compelled her, and at that point, she hadn’t had anything to lose. Looking up, she feels warm tears brimming in her eyes and tires in vain to bat them away before he notices them—but he does and his eyes fill with compassion and concern that she doesn’t deserve. She blinks back the tears as his hand slips around her back—and all she can think about is how much she has to lose. She doesn’t have options—if she wants to keep Henry, she has to break the curse—and in doing so, she might lose him and everything  else she’s come to love about her life anyway.

“Hey…it’s okay,” Robin murmurs in a tender voice. “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s not you,” she says—meaning it in more ways than one. “It’s just…I…”

“Henry’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” she says, trying unsuccessfully to keep her tears at bay. “Logically, I know that. But…” Her voice trails off because she can’t say what she’s actually thinking, she can’t admit what she actually feels. “I’m just…being irrational.”

“How much sleep have you gotten?”

“Oh, between last night and tonight, I’d say…a solid three hours.”

“So, you’re tired, not irrational,” he says, his hand rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. “And, on top of that, you’ve had a long, emotional day.” She nods as his hands slide up her shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Can I…help?” He laughs a little and as his hands slide back and forth over her shoulders. “I’ve been told that I give quite the amazing back rub—and that I’ve been known to lull even the most restless of souls to sleep.” She watches a grin pulls at his lips and he leans in a little, “Don’t tell anyone,” he says, “But last summer, when John pulled out his back, I may or may not have worked some magic on him and gotten out the knot.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she murmurs as her own grin forms, and without thinking about it too much, she feels herself sliding down from the barstool at the counter. Robin follows her into the living room and she sits on the opposite end of the couch form where Roland sleeps. She sits with her back to the couch’s arm and Robin drags the ottoman around so he can sit behind her. His hands slide against her silky pajamas, working their way over her shoulders and pressing at the base of her neck. She leans back into his touch, enjoying his hands working over her—enjoying his closeness and his touch—and her eyes close as she loses herself in it and for just a few minutes allows herself to pretend…


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry finds out Regina was the person who almost adopted him when he was a baby.

Regina looked over at Henry, smiling as he leaned against the counter as he read over the notes his classmates had written to him—and she can’t help but smile as an odd sense of relief hits her. It wasn’t long ago that he’d been so worried about starting school—fearful that he’d have to sit alone at lunch and not have anyone to play with at recess, scared that the other kids would tease him and not want to work in groups with him, worried that once again, he’d find himself alone in the crowd. She sets the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and bends to grab the soap, watching as Henry smile as his fingers touch the edge overly glittered card as he closes it and stares at the big red heart in the center and the silver bubble letters spelling out ‘Get Well Soon, Henry!’ on the front.

“So, what do you say we tackle some of that homework?” She asks, kicking the dishwasher door closed and spinning the dial. “You’ve got quite a bit of it in that folder.”

“Do I _have_ to?” Henry asks, looking up at her and pouting out his bottom lip. His hazel eyes are wide and hopeful, and he bats his eyelashes in a way that he’s quickly learned is the first step in getting her to give in and let him have his way. “Today’s the first day that I feel better,” he reasons. “And it’s Friday, so that means I have the _whole weekend_ to do it.”

Tossing the dishtowel down onto the counter, she crosses her arms and tries not to grin.  “ _And_ you have an entire week’s worth of work to make up for this weekend.”

“Technically,” Henry begins as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “It’s only four days.” She rolls her eyes but nonetheless feels a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. “And I’m only in school for six hours, so…two days is…” His voice trails off and he chews at his bottom lip as he struggles through the multiplication and she can’t stop her smile when his eyes widen and he smiles triumphantly as he silently reaches his answer. “I _definitely_ have more than enough time…starting tomorrow.”

Regina laughs a little and shakes her head, stifling the urge to just give in. “Okay,” she says, taking a short breath as she reaches out and runs her fingers through the front of his hair, pushing it off of his forehead. “How about we pick just one thing to do tonight and then when that one thing is done, we’ll cuddle up on the couch with some blankets and watch a movie before bed?” Again, Henry chews at his bottom for a moment as he considers, his own eyes narrowing to mirror her expression—and her breath catches because for the first time, she sees her own mannerisms in him—and she feels a smile tug onto her lips. “What do you think?”

“Can we make popcorn, too?”

“Oh,” she murmurs, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think it might be a little harsh on your stomach.”

“What about popsicles? Can we make popsicles instead?” He grins. “You did promise to teach me how to make them when I was better.”

She sighs, “I did, didn’t I?” Henry nods and she feels a small pang of guilt. “They’re easy to make, but they take awhile to freeze. I don’t think they’d be done in time.”

“Oh, okay,” Henry says, shrugging his shoulders with a little sigh. “Never mind then.”

“Do you think you could settle for the popsicles I made just before dinner? Those should be ready by the time we watch the movie.” She wagers, grinning as his smile returns and he offers her a vigorous nod in reply. “So, do we have a deal then?” She asks, “A little homework then a movie and popsicles.”

“We have a deal,” he tells her as he reaches for his folder, immediately crinkling his nose at a math assignment that’s tucked into the front pocket.

“How about we hold off on the math until tomorrow,” she says, leaning against the counter and turning the folder towards herself, deciding that something difficult would be better served after a full night’s sleep. She laughs a little as she brushes some glitter off of the pocket and begins thumbing through the pages—skipping more math and then skipping over a short story and a plot diagram, and then skipping over some writing prompts, knowing that Henry will enjoy those might be a nice reward after working on math the next day. “What about science?” She murmurs, as she pulls a stapled packet from the folder. “What do you think?”

Henry takes the packet and his eyes slowly scan it. “We started this last week, I think,” he tells her. “We learned about all the different parts of a cell and…now, I guess we have to make one.”

“That could be fun…”

“Yeah,” he says with a little sigh. “I could use that bag of pom-poms that we got at the craft store…” Regina’s brow furrows and Henry giggles a bit. “The colorful cotton ball thingies,” he tells her.

“Oh…right…” She says with a little laugh. “You have all that foam, too, from when we were trying to figure out what to make your Captain America shield from…”

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “And I have beads and glitter glue and…” He nods decisively. “I’ll go get my craft box.” He starts to slide off of his stool, but she reaches for him and presses a kiss against the top of his head, laughing and he squirms. “Do I need anything else?” He asks, when he’s finally free. “I can’t see the list…”

“Oh, um…” She scans the list and nods. “Grab some regular glue—not the glittery one—and you’ll need a good-sized shoe box.” His nose crinkles as he considers this and she laughs. “Take one out of my closet,” she says with a little laugh. “Just…try to put the shoes back in my closet neatly, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry agrees as he runs toward the stairs, clattering up them and making her laugh again. She closes the folder and pushes it aside, then reaches for the card caked in glitter, remembering when Robin handed it to Henry earlier that evening—and warm grin begins to tug onto her lips…

_The door bell rang and Henry looked up at her as she shrugged her shoulders and suggested that he answer it. His brow had furrowed with curiosity and she laughed a little, knowing that Robin and Roland would be stopping over just before dinner with Henry’s homework. She watched as Henry’s eyes widened in excitement when he opened the door and saw Robin standing there with Roland on his shoulders—and Robin announced to him that he had a very special delivery. Roland giggled and held up a blue folder with Henry’s name written on it in black marker, telling him with a bit too much excitement that they’d brought his school work. Nonetheless, Henry invited them in, practically bouncing as he did—he hadn’t seen them since Halloween since he’d been sleeping off a fever the last time they’d been over in the middle of the night._

_Once inside, Robin twisted Roland off of his shoulders and extended the card to Henry and he’d ran his little fingers over the glittered surface as Robin had smiled apologetically at Regina as pieces of loose glitter cascaded down onto the floor in the foyer._

_Henry and Roland went into the living room to better examine the card as Roland chattered on about an all-school assembly Henry had been lucky enough to miss._

_“You didn’t have to do this,” Regina murmured, pushing herself away from the frame of the door and toward the foyer. “I could have… gone up to the school and picked it up.”_

_“With a sick kid?” Robin asked, arching his eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”_

_“Well, my secretary…”_

_“Regina, I was there anyway picking up Roland,” he interjected with a small grin. “It was no trouble at all. Besides, it gives me an excuse to see you…” Her eyes widened a little as Robin’s cheeks flushed and he grimaced. “I just… I meant that I’ve gotten used to seeing you and Henry a few times a week and… I just…”_

_“Missed a friend,” Regina supplied as her heart fluttered a little. “I get it.”_

A thud coming upstairs brings her out of the memory and she looks curiously toward the stairs, taking a breath as she starts toward them. “Henry?” He doesn’t answer and her heartbeat quickens. “Henry, are you okay?” She calls out as she reaches the stairs—and when he doesn’t reply, her heart drops and she runs up the stairs, once more calling his name and receiving no reply.

For a moment, she doesn’t understand. He’s standing in the center of her bedroom holding a couple of sheets of paper in his small hands. His craft box is open on the floor, the contents spilled out on the carpet.

“Henry, what’s wrong…” she murmurs slowly, suddenly noticing the shoe box at his feet—the box she kept tucked away on her shelf, the one with this name on it. “Oh, Henry…” she says again, as her mouth goes try and her heart begins to pound, watching the way he stares at the papers in his hands. It’s a look she’s seen before—a mixture of hurt and confusion, of disbelief and sadness—and it’s a look she wishes more than anything she hadn’t caused. Her chest tightens and she can’t find her voice—though, she’s not sure what she could say to him because there isn’t anything she can say that could undo her mistake or change the way that she knows he feels.

His hands are shaking as she steps into the room, her heart pounding louder and louder as she takes a few tentative steps toward him. It feels like an eternity before she reaches him, and she drops down onto her knees so that she’s at eye level with him. She reaches for his hand, but he pulls away and tears fill her eyes as she notices the tears welling in his. His fingers hand tremble as he holds the papers and he’s staring at them so intently, she’s not even sure he knows that she’s there.

“Henry,” she calls softly, as she reaches for the papers and attempts to pull them away. Her fingers touch to them and again he doesn’t look at her, not acknowledging her presence in any way. “Henry,” she says again, gently pulling at the papers—and this time, he makes a move, his fingers clenching around the papers as his face crumbles. Still, he doesn’t look at her. “Henry, can you please just… look at me?”

Slowly, his eyes turn up to meet hers and as soon as they do, tears spill from them, streaming down his cheeks as his jaw begins to tremble. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, he just stares at her, looking at her as if he’s looking through her. “It was… you,” he says finally in a barely audible voice. “You were the one. You were the person who almost adopted me. H-how? How was that possible?” He asks, as he turns the photograph of her holding him when he was just a couple of months old around so that she can see it. “This is me and you and… you gave me back. You gave me away.”

 “Henry…”

“You didn’t want me,” he says, cutting her off as he looks down the picture. “You didn’t want me,” he says again, this time more definitively as if it’s the plain truth. There’s no question in his words, just a statement—and the words cut deep. “You… you didn’t want me,” he says again, pulling away from her as his face crumbles.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want you, Henry.”

“You almost adopted me,” he says, his voice rising as his eyes widen with realization as he stares at her, “Just like they said.” He shakes his head, “And on Halloween, you told me they were wrong, but… but they weren’t. Everything they told me was… it was true.”

“No, Henry. It’s _not_ like they said.”Her voice is desperate and again, she reaches out to him. “Henry, it’s not at all like what they said.”

“Why didn’t you want me?” he asks, recoiling as she her fingers touch to his hand, wanting nothing more than to hold him and comfort him and make him understand that she’s always loved him—that despite the terrible mistake she made, she never stopped loving him—and giving him up was never about home, it was about her and giving him up was her greatest regret, in a lifetime that was full of regrets.

 “Henry, please, let me exp…”

“No,” he says again, taking a step back. “I don’t want to hear anymore lies.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Henry.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. “You said I didn’t do anything wrong…”

“You didn’t, Henry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What did I do to make you not want me?” He asks, his face crumbling as he looks away from her, looking down at the picture once again. “I had to have done something. Otherwise you wouldn’t have given me away. You wouldn’t have sent me back.”

“I wanted you Henry. I _always_ wanted you.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have given me back.” He shakes his head and when he looks back up at her, she sees a look that’s so familiar to her—a look she’s seen countless times when she looks in the mirror—and it breaks her heart to see that sort of self-loathing in his eyes. “I wasn’t good enough and you knew that.”

“No,” she’s quick to say. “You were… perfect,” she tells him, her voice cracking as her breath catches in her throat. “You were this perfect little boy who I loved more than anything.” Closing her eyes, she takes a breath, forcing her voice out. “But when I looked at you, I couldn’t help but think that you deserved more, that you deserved better than what I could give you.” She opens her eyes and tears immediately spill from them and Henry’s face is unchanged. “I thought that by giving you up, I was doing what was best for you. I thought you deserved a family and…”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Look how that turned out.”

“I’m so sorry, Henry. I… I didn’t know. I didn’t know how things were going to turn out for you.” She leans back on her ankles, sitting on the back of her legs as she takes a breath. “I was wrong, Henry. I was wrong and…”

“Is that why you came to New York?” He asks, momentarily letting his eyes meet hers. “Is that why you… you were so nice to me and you bought me things and took me places and… and did you do all of that because you felt guilty?”

“No…”

Henry nods, “Oh…”

She watches him for a moment and she wishes that she could tell what he was thinking—wishing more than anything he would let her comfort him, that he would believe her when she told him that she loved him—and she wishes that she could undo her mistakes, that she could have kept him and loved him and avoided this very moment.

“Henry, I love you. I’ve _always_ loved you,” she says, her voice full of sincere conviction. “There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you and…”

He shakes his head, “I don’t believe you.”

“Henry, please…” She leans forward and tries to reach for him, but he withdraws sharply, practically wincing as her fingertips graze his hand. He sucks in a breath as his face contorts and looks at her like she’s a complete stranger as the papers fall from his hand and tears stream down his cheeks. “Let me explain. Just… let me try?”

“No,” he cuts in. “There’s nothing to explain.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I wasn’t good enough and now… now you just… feel sorry for me.” He takes a step back. “And that’s not the same as love.”

“I _do_ love you, Henry,” she says in a small voice, her heart clenching and arching as she struggles to breathe. “No matter what you think right now, I do love you.”

“If that’s what you think,” he murmurs, as he takes another step back as his jaw tightens and his eyes fall away from hers. “You don’t know what love is.”

His words sting and though she tries, she can’t manage to reply. Her breath catches, aching and expanding in her chest and she feels like she’s been kicked in the stomach and all she can do is watch him go, and flinch when his bedroom door slams shut—shutting her out and closing himself off to her.

_______

On Sunday night, she cracks open his door, peeking in and seeing that he’s put himself to bed. She takes a breath and comes into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching him sleep for a few minutes. She can’t help but notice that _Prince Caspian_ hasn’t been touched and she feels a mix of emotion surge through her. It seems odd, that this is what forces tears into her eyes, but it’s more than just the story—there’s a sense of relief that he doesn’t want to finish it without her and a sort of hope that maybe he’ll want to continue it with her in the not-so-distant future, but also the fear that he’s given up something he loves, that his life has again been altered and something that made him feel safe and secure has once again been taken from him.

Swallowing hard, she reaches out and tentatively brushes her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t move and her breath catches, relishing in the small bit of contact and small bit of normalcy. She takes a long breath and slowly exhales it, as she lies down beside him—close enough that she can feel him breathing, but not quite close enough to hold him, not wanting to wake him and not wanting him to push her away.

She lays with him for awhile, feeling herself growing tired, her eyelids drooping and her breath growing shallow; and though she wants nothing more than to close her eyes and cuddle him close, she knows he wouldn’t want that, so she pulls away and retreats back to her own bedroom—and finally allows a release of emotion she’s kept pent up for days.

For the majority of the weekend, he’s barely left his room. He’s all but refused t talk to her, answering in one word statements, if he answers at all. Still, she checked on him on a near-hourly basis—bringing him a morning snack and a comic book that came in the mail, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and milk for lunch, and a bowl of stuffed pepper soup and a roll for dinner. He told her that he didn’t want it, but she left it on his desk and when she returned—to gather laundry or return a game he’d left in the living room—she couldn’t help but notice that he’d, at the very least, picked at the food and spine on the comic book had been cracked. Somehow, there was something comforting in that though it was the smallest of victories and ones she couldn’t relish in. Still, she was glad that he never asked her to leave, that sometimes, she could feel his eyes on her and though he wouldn’t admit it, he still needed her and perhaps even wanted to need her—and then she remembers that’s it’s not really a choice.

But it wears on her and by the time, she returns to her room, she can’t contain it anymore, letting it all spill out and then the next thing she knows, it’s Monday morning—and her alarm never went off.

She wakes with a start, quickly changing her close and rushing downstairs to find Henry sitting at the counter, dragging his spoon through a bowl of Fruit Loops. She smiles at him and he looks away with a short sigh as he reaches for his backpack.

“I should go,” he says, reaching for the blue folder—something that disappeared from the counter at some point on Saturday. “I have some questions for Ms. Blanchard.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, watching as he slides down from his stool. “I could…”

“No, that’s okay,” Henry says in a disinterested voice, still not looking at her.

“Henry,” she says, gently catching his arm as he tries to pass her on his way to the front door and finally he looks up at her. “Let me drive you. It’s cold outside.”

He shrugs his shoulders and pulls away slowly. “I’ll wear my coat.”

“Henry…”

“It’s not far,” he says. “I can walk.”

“But, Henry…”

“See you later.”

She barely nods as she watches him go—her heart heavy as her eyes fill with tears. Taking a breath she tucks her hair behind her ears and cleans up the kitchen—emptying his left over cereal into the garbage disposal and putting away the box and milk, reminding herself again and again not to cry—it won’t do any good. And then the little voice at the back of her head reminds her that this is her fault.

When she gets to her office, she brushes past her secretary, not wanting to talk or answer questions. She locks her door and sits down at her desk, turning her chair toward her computer. She looks out the window and sighs—she can see the play ground and she knows in just more than forty five minutes, Henry and his classmates will be going out to for a play break. Clicking into her email, she takes a breath and emails Mary Margaret Blanchard—humbling herself as she tells her vaguely that Henry’s had a rough few days and asks for her to send a couple of updates so that she knows he’s okay. She gets a reply almost immediately, her jaw tightening as a sense of gratitude overwhelms her.

The first update comes—Henry had a snack of sliced apples and did well during Reader’s Theatre; her second update comes shortly after, informing her that Henry and his friends played kickball—something she saw at a distance from her office window—and the third update reports that Henry spent some time playing a math game while his classmates took a test, something he’ll be taking in two days. Finally, she reports that he seemed a little down at the end of the day—assuming that his energy was still low after nearly a week of the flu—and he enjoyed some independent reading of _The Westing Game_ and some raisins for an afternoon snack before doing to tutoring once the bell rang.

She sits back in her chair and sighs at the realization that she hasn’t gotten any work done—quarterly reports still sit untouched on her desk as do the zoning permits and vendor license renewal forms. And she can’t bring herself to care—all she can manage to do is watch the clock and wait for Henry.

_______

When tutoring is over, Robin looks up, as he gather left over pencils and discarded pieces of scrap paper, to see Henry lingering at the back of the library. His coat is on and his backpack sits over his shoulders as he browses the fiction section. He watches him curiously, watching the way he hovers as if he has nowhere else to be and all the time in the world. He was quiet at tutoring and it’s been a few days since he’s heard from Regina—something that is a bit out of the norm—and as he watches Henry linger, he can’t help but feel that he’s avoiding going home and that’s something’s happened.

“Hey,” Robin says, coming up to him and crouching down. “Need to check out a book?”

“No, just… looking,” Henry says with a sigh.

“You seem like you might be avoiding something,” Robin says as he looks over at him.

“I don’t want to go home,” Henry says with a sigh as he plucks _Chasing Vermeer_ from the shelf and flips it over. “Not yet anyway.”

“Did you let your mom know that you’re staying a bit later?”

Henry shrugs and Robin watches as he swallows a lump in his throat. “No…”

“Maybe you should,” he says, pulling out his phone and extending it to him. “She’ll be worried if you don’t.”

“No, she won’t,” Henry says looking over at him, his hazel eyes filling with tears. “She doesn’t want me.”

“Henry,” Robin says, reaching out and rubbing his hand over the boy’s arm. “You _know_ that’s not true.”

“It is,” Henry says as he looks back at the book. “She gave me back. She had me and she didn’t want me anymore so she gave me back.” He swallows again and sniffles, rubbing his hand over the back of his nose, trying desperately not to cry. “The only reason she has me now is because she feels sorry for me.”

Robin takes a breath and flips open his phone, keeping an eye on Henry as he sends a quick text to Regina— _Don’t worry. Henry’s fine. He’s with me and we’re having a little chat. I’ll bring him home soon. Don’t worry.—_ and then flips his phone shut and reaches for Henry’s hand. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go…” Henry takes his hand, letting him lead him to one of the bean bags in the Reading Corner. “Sit,” Robin says, pointing to the bean bag and grinning as Henry does it without question. Robin sits down across from him, folding his legs beneath himself. “Okay, start at the beginning and tell me what happened.”

Henry nods and launches into a story—starting at the actual beginning, telling Robin about how his birthmother gave him up for adoption and how when he was just a few months old, he was almost adopted—but something happened and the woman gave him back and after that, he bounced around from foster family to foster family until he ended up with the people he eventually ran away from.

“And the woman who almost adopted you was….Regina?” He asks, thinking back to Halloween when Regina told him about Henry’s almost-adoption and how his foster family used it to remind him that they could easily give him back if they wanted to—and suddenly, her demeanor that night makes so much more sense to him.

Henry nods. “Yeah,” he says in a small voice. “But she gave me back.”

“I’m sure that was difficult for her.”

Henry shrugs his shoulders, “She didn’t want me.”

Slowly Robin reaches out and lifts his chin. “She wanted you, Henry. Sometimes… life just gets complicated and we can’t always do the things we want or have the things we want and sometimes, we think we don’t deserve to have certain things.” He shakes his head. “But I can assure you that your mother always wanted you.”

“That’s what she told me.”

“Maybe it’s true then.”

“But… how could she?” Henry asks as tears well in his eyes. “How could she just… give me away?”

“Parenting is tough,” Robin says with a little laugh, looking back over his shoulder at Roland who is sitting at one of the tables coloring. “Sometimes parents have to make really hard decisions and do what they think is best for their kids, even if it hurts.”

“But it _wasn’t_ what was best,” Henry says as he looks down. “It was the _worst_.”

“She knows that now, but back then, I don’t think she did,” he reasons. “She couldn’t have.”

“It could have been so perfect.”

A grin tugs at Robin’s lips. “If she’d kept you?” Henry nods and sighs, and Robin’s grin deepens. “It still can be, Henry.” Henry looks up and Robin nudges him. “You two have a second chance to be a family, which is pretty miraculous, don’t you think?” Henry’s brow furrows as he considers it. “I mean, what are the chances of Regina going to New York and finding _you_ again? In a city of millions of people, she found _you_.”

“That night that I met her, she took me to a diner and bought me dinner,” Henry says, sniffling again as he bats his hands over his eyes. “She asked me if I believed in fate.” Robin grins—that sounds just like her. “She said she thought it was fate that led her to me that night.”

“Perhaps it was.” Henry blinks a couple of times as Robin reaches for his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “You mother loves you so, so much, Henry. You mean everything to her. But… she’s not perfect. She’s human and she makes mistakes, but she also learns from them.” He squeezes his hand again and this time offers him a smile. “Let her make it up to you. Let her show you what she’s learned.”

“But… but what if…” Henry begins, closing his eyes as he takes a long breath. “What if she changes her mind again? What if I do something that makes her mad or that she doesn’t like and she decides to give me back?”

“Henry, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“But you don’t _know_ …”

“I do,” Robin cuts in. “Because you’re her son and she loves you.” He shakes his head. “It’s not something that’s conditional, Henry.”

Finally Henry’s eyes open and tears spill down his cheeks. “I don’t want to lose her again,” he admits in barely audible voice. “I… I just… I can’t.”

“And you won’t,” Robin says in a firm voice as Henry’s jaw starts to tremble. “Can I… ask you something?” Henry nods. “Have you ever met your birthmother?”

“No,” Henry says, shaking his head. “I have dreams about her sometimes, but I’ve never met her.”

“Do you have any bad feelings toward her?”

“No,” Henry says as his brow furrows. “My social worker couldn’t tell me much about her, only that she wasn’t ready to be a…” His eyes widen a little—and a smile tugs onto Robin’s lips as the realization settles in Henry’s eyes. “Oh.”

Robin tugs him up from the bean bag chair and grins. “Regina might not have been ready to be a mom eight years ago, but she’s ready now,” he says giving Henry’s hand a little squeeze. “So, why don’t you let her? It is, after all, what you both want.”

_____

Regina opens the door before they even reach the porch, breathing out a long sigh of relief as Henry allows her to hug him. She holds him tightly against her legs, her hand slipping behind his backpack, smiling gratefully at Robin, who stands there with Roland, watching and smiling at the exchange. And for just a split second, everything feels normal.

But then Henry pulls back, looking back at Robin before looking to Regina. “I… I’m kind of tired. Can I go upstairs?”

“Y-yeah, of course,” she murmurs as he pulls away from her and suddenly, she feels so empty.

“Hey, Roland,” Robin says, crouching down. “Henry’s kind of having a bad day.” He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a comic book. “I think it might cheer him up if you showed him your new Spiderman comic.”

“I think your dad’s right—Henry would love to see it,” Regina adds with a little smile. “He said he was tired, so maybe you two could read a little bit together?”

“Okay,” Roland says with an easy grin as he takes the comic and heads up the stairs.

They both stand in the foyer, listening as Roland bounds down the hallway and knocks gently on Henry’s door. A moment later the door opens and Henry invites him in and the door closes, and then Robin turns to Regina.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“What was I supposed to say?” She asks incredulously. “Hey, just a heads up, I gave me son away once?”

“No,” Robin says gently. “I just mean… it must have been a really difficult weekend for you and… I’d imagine a little support would have been nice.”

“It was a difficult weekend,” she says with a sigh. “He… wouldn’t talk to me or even look at me…”

“He’s hurting.”

“I know,” she says. “Because of me.”

Robin reaches out and touches his hand to her arm, gently rubbing in a way that’s oddly soothing to her. She looks down at his fingers against the thin fabric of her shirt and then back to him, finding that his eyes are soft and sincere and he’s looking at her in a way that makes her feel just a little less alone and a little less guilty.

“Can I, uh… get you some coffee or something?”

“You don’t have to, but…”

“It’s already made,” she tells him. “I… needed to do something as I waited for you to bring Henry home.” She crosses her arms over her chest as his hand falls away from her arm, and she offers him a sheepish grin. “There’s also a batch of cookies in the over, if you want to wait a bit.”

“Well, I’ll never say no to fresh coffee and warm, homemade cookies.”

Rolling her eyes, she smiles a little as they walk into the kitchen and he sits down on one of the stools. She can feel him watching as she pours two cups and she takes a long breath before turning to face. “Thank you,” she says as she slides one toward him, then cradles the other in her hands. “For… making sure Henry was okay and… not looking at me like I’m the world’s worst parent.”

“You don’t have to thank me for either of those things—and you are not a bad parent.”

“Did you miss the part where I gave my son away?”

“Regina,” he says with a sigh as she looks pointedly back at him. “That was a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t change it.”

“No,” he says calmly. “But… parenting is hard and we all make mistakes.”

She sighs and takes a set at the counter adjacent to him. “Some of us just make bigger ones.” She takes another sip of the coffee and from the corner of her eye, she watches his eyes narrow—not in a judgmental way, but as if he’s weighing options. She looks over at him and he holds her gaze, and for an all too brief moment, she feels a flicker of something. “What?” She asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m about to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone else,” he replies as he takes a sip of his coffee and her eyebrows arch in curiosity. “Do you think I’m a good father?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation.

“Would your opinion change if you knew that when my son was only hours old, I left him in a hospital and didn’t come back for him for four days? That I didn’t know if I’d come back at all?” Her brow furrows and she tips her head, and he smiles gently as he nods. “Roland was… unplanned,” he begins as his smile fades. “Marian and I hadn’t even talked about children. We just weren’t there yet and then all of the sudden, he was he here and…and Marian was gone.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, reaching out without thinking and covering his hand with hers. “I didn’t realize that’s how Marian died.”

“My son’s birthday is… the hardest day in my year,” he says as he looks back at her. “I lost my wife that day and I…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I had no idea what I was supposed to do next. I didn’t know a thing about babies and, truthfully, I didn’t think it was a fair trade.”

“That must have been awful,” she murmurs, feeling a pang of guilt as she wonders how much of his story is actually and how much of it was created by her curse. “I can’t even imagine.”

He nods. “It was awful and I just… walked away,” he says, and she watches as he momentarily loses himself in the memory. “I didn’t hold him or even see him, I just walked away.”

“You were grieving.”

“I was,” he agrees. “And then four days later, I went back and…I still had no idea what to do with a child. He didn’t feel like he was mine, but he had Marian’s eyes and when I looked at him, I saw a little bit of her.” He shakes his head and sighs. “It took months for me to feel like he was mine.”

“Robin, considering the circumstances…”

“Exactly,” he says, turning his hand over in hers. “Given the circumstances, it was understandable. Given the circumstances, I don’t sound like a jerk who left his kid; I sound like a man who was consumed by his grief and didn’t know how to handle it.” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Now, I can’t imagine my world without him and quite frankly, I wouldn’t want to—and it’s not because he reminds me of Marian, it’s because he makes my life better.” She glances down at their hands and it occurs to her to pull away, but she feels no inclination to do so, somehow comforted by the warm, subtle touch. “But if Roland ever heard that story, I’m pretty certain that there’s only one part of it he’d hear.”

“Just that he wasn’t wanted.”

Robin nods, “It doesn’t make it true.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Give Henry a little time,” Robin says giving her hand a little squeeze. “He’ll see that there’s more to the story eventually.” He grins a little, once more squeezing her hand before withdrawing it and she finds that she’s sorry that he’s let go. “In fact, I think he already has.”

“You do?”

Robin nods, “I do.”

_______

Her room is dark and she sits up with a start, her heart pounding as beads of sweat cluster on her forehead. She sits up and pushes her hand through her hair, telling herself over and over that it was just a dream. Taking a breath she lays back, still panting as she hears the soft echo of her mother’s voice, reminding her again and again that love is weakness.

She lets out a shallow breath and closes her eyes, but as soon as she does, it’s like she’s right back in the nightmare. So, she sits up again and throws her legs over the side of the bed, feeling blindly for her robe. She pulls it on and stands up and when she opens the door, Henry’s standing there with his fist clench about to knock.

“Henry…”

“I… I… heard you,” he says, looking up at her with wide eyes. “It sounded like you were crying.”

“Oh, no,” she murmurs back. “I was just… I had a nightmare.” She shrugs her shoulders dismissively and tries to act like she isn’t still rattled. “I’m fine now.”

“Oh…” He shifts awkwardly as he wrings his hands together, still looking up at her with wide eyes. “Do you… want some milk and honey? You said you used to like that when you had nightmare when you were a little girl.”

A tentative grin tugs at the corner of her mouth—truthfully, she was going to go downstairs and grab a glass of water—but with Henry standing there, looking up expectantly, she finds herself nodding. “Yeah, that would be nice.” Henry reaches out and takes her hand, leading her down the stairs and into the kitchen. She flicks on the light and smiles as he leans up onto his toes and reaches for the milk. “Can I… help?”

“No, I can do it,” he murmurs, looking back at her. “I… want to.”

She nods and sits down on one of the stools, keeping a close eye on his movements. She watches as he drags a stool over the stove and reaches for a sauce pan, filling it with milk as he gets out the honey. A smile edges onto her lips as she watches out precise and careful he is with everything, and then watches as he slowly and cautiously pours the milk into mugs. He gets down off of the stool and takes slow and deliberate steps as he carries the mugs over to where she sits at the counter. She takes her and thanks him, watching as he climbs up to sit adjacent to her.

“What was your nightmare about?” He asks quietly as he looks up at her from over the rim of his mug. “Or do you not want to talk about it?”

“Oh, no, I just… don’t actually remember much of it. I only remember the way it made me feel.”

“Some of my nightmares are like that, too,” he says as he sucks in a deep breath. “Was it… about me? Because I was… mean to you?”

“No,” she says quickly. “It wasn’t about your or because of anything you did or said.”

“Good...”

“It was just… the same nightmare I’ve always had.”

He nods and takes a sip of the milk and she does the same, watching as he closes his eyes and takes another breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“Why didn’t you keep me?”

“I just thought that… you could do so much better than me. I didn’t think that I was good enough to be your mom.” Her breath catches in her throat and she shakes her head. “I thought that by giving you up, I was giving you a better chance at happiness.” She watches as he looks back down into his mug, listening intently and actually hearing her words. “I wanted you to have a real family that…”

“But we _are_ a family,” he says, looking up at her. “We always could have been.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a little nod. “I know that now.”

“Robin said that you probably just weren’t ready to be a mom.”

“I… don’t think I knew how,” she tells him gently. “I knew that I loved you and I wanted you, but I didn’t think I knew how to be a parent to you and I just figured that someone else would know better than I did.” She smiles sadly, thinking of the sweet, chubby-cheeked baby he’d been. “And I never thought that what happened to you would happen because I couldn’t have imagined anyone _not_ loving you.” Taking a breath she looks back at him, her smile deepening, still seeing sweet baby in him now. “I convinced myself that… that keeping you was somehow selfish and that you deserved better than what I could give you.” She takes a short breath, holding back the urge to reach out to him. “It was _never_ about me not loving you.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes, and she watches as his brow creases and his eyes narrow. She can practically the wheels turning in his head as he considers, mulling it over and trying to decide what he thinks and feels about it. She watches and she waits, trying not to be impatient or to rush him, wanting nothing more than to reach out to him—to hug him and hold him and apologize again and again until he believes her—and then, just when she thinks she can’t stand it any longer, he looks back at her and a small hint of a smile tugs onto his lips.

“Can you… do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Can you promise never to do that again?” He swallows hard and his chin begins to tremble. “Because I really need my mom and I don’t care if that’s selfish.” Tears well in his eyes as he takes a shaky breath, “And… I’m sorry about what I said the other day.” He looks back at her and his voice catches in his throat as tears spill down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean it when I said you didn’t know how to love. You do and you’re really good at it and…” Again his breath catches and his face crumbles. “And I just want you to be my mom again and I want things to go back to how they were and I…”

“Oh Henry,” she breathes out as she slides from her stool and reaches for him. She can feel tears welling in her eyes as she pulls him against her. Her heart aches as she holds him close to her, rocking him gently as she lets him cry. Bending her head, she presses a kiss into his hair. “I _promise_ , Henry. I promise you, I will _never_ stop being your mom.”

“Mom?” Henry asks, pulling back only slightly. Reaching out, Regina wipes the tears from his cheeks. “I know it’s late, but do you think we could read a little bit of _Prince Caspian_?” He offers her a sheepish grin. “I tried reading a little bit by myself and… and it wasn’t the same without you and I really want to know what happens next.”

“I would _love_ to, Henry” she replies, laughing a little, as a smile stretches onto her lips and sense of relief washes over her and she feels the tiniest of inklings telling her that if he can forgive her for this, he can forgive her for anything and that no matter what happens, _they_ will be okay.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina wants to thank Robin for helping Henry come around, and the boys try to play matchmaker…and while things don’t go as they planned, things work out better than they realize.

Standing on the sidewalk, her fingers tighten around the paper take-out bag and suddenly, she starts to wonder if this was all a mistake. Her stomach flips a little as she thinks of all of the reasons that she should turn the other way and go back to her office—it’s not like there’s not a mountain of paperwork sitting on her desk or a meeting scheduled in the early afternoon that she hasn’t even began to prep for; and the store is busier than she thought it would be on a Tuesday morning and only fifteen minutes after nine. She cranes her neck, looking beyond the orange kayak that hangs in the window, glancing around the store in search of him, spotting at least four customers browsing through the displays before her eyes finally settle on him—and almost instantly, a smile tugs onto her lips.

Robin leans against the counter, chuckling softly as a grin pulls his at the corners of his mouth as he nods, listening intently as a customer looks between two fishing polls. And no matter how many times she tells herself that she should go, no matter how many times she tells herself that he looks busy and that she’ll see him later that evening anyway, she just can’t bring herself to walk away…

That morning she’d awoken with Henry splayed across her, her fingers tucked into the last page that they’d read of _Prince Caspian_ before finally giving into exhaustion and nodding off. She’d told him that she’d read just one chapter, just so he could find out a little bit of what happened next, but Henry had curled into her side and he’d been hanging on every word that she read. So, it wasn’t long before one chapter turned into two, then two chapters turned into three—and even though her eyes were heavy with sleep and wrist ached from the weight of the book, she read on and on and on until Henry had fallen asleep on top of her. 

The lights were still on and her neck felt tight, and she knew that she’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. She blinked groggily a couple of times as she focused on the clock sitting on Henry’s nightstand, the time slowly registering as she realized that if she got up now, she could get a few decent hours of sleep before having to get up and get herself and Henry ready for the day. She’d looked down at him as a grin stretched onto her lips and she could tell that he was in a deep sleep and likely wouldn’t even have noticed if she’d shifted him into a more comfortable position and got out of the bed. And though the thought of stretching out in her comfortable bed and nodding off to sleep was a tempting thought, she just couldn’t bring herself to move him away. Just the morning before, she hadn’t known if things would ever be the same between them. While she understood that he’d come around eventually, she wasn’t at all convinced that he could forgive her—yet almost miraculously, he had. So, she’d cuddled him closer instead of getting up, bending hear head to drop a light kiss over his hair, wanting to make up for the days she lost, the days when he’d barely looked at her and the days she wondered if she’d ever have another moment like this with him again.

A smile had edged onto her lips as she combed her fingers through his hair and her thoughts drifted to Robin—she’s not entirely sure what he said to Henry the day before, but she knows that whatever it was, it made a difference—and had it not been for him, she wouldn’t have been enjoying this quiet moment with her son had it not been for him.

And then her thoughts began to drift to ways to make it up to him…

So that morning, after she’d dropped Henry off at school, she’d turned toward Granny’s diner instead of City Hall. She ordered two coffees and then the tell-tale fried egg and ham bagel sandwich that Granny immediately knew to be Robin’s go-to breakfast to-go order. She tried not to react as Granny chuckled, shaking her head a she scribbled the order onto a ticket, and she half-heartedly refuted all of the claims Granny made about her and Robin as she waited for the order. She’d rolled her eyes, feigning a mild annoyance, when Granny asked when they were just going to admit what everyone else already knew and she pretended to be completely unaware of what she meant. When the order was ready, Regina traded it for a ten and sighed just a bit too dramatically as she turned from the counter and Granny reminded her that she was just as good for him as he was for her, and as she walked to the door, shaking her head and laughing a little as she reminded her that they really were just good friends.

Inhaling a sharp breath, she finally pushes herself forward and steps into his shop. The little bell on the door jingles and he looks up—and when his eyes settle on her his smile is instant. He waves to her from across the store, then momentarily turns his attention back to the customer with the fishing poll, tapping decisively on one as the man thanks him as he directs him to the check out. And a moment later, he turns his attention back to her, smiling again and practically jogging toward her as he crosses the sales floor to where she stands by the door—and her heart flutters gently in her chest.

“Well, well, what do I owe this pleasure?” He chuckles softly and grabs onto a pack of colorful ankle-cut socks. “Assuming you’re not here for new running socks…”

“I can’t even say that I have old running socks,” she says with a little grin. “In fact, I didn’t even know there were socks specifically made for running.”

Robin’s eyebrow arches as he flips over the pack of socks, “Oh, well, you see the way the cotton is weaved…” He stops. “And you weren’t actually asking.”

“No, but I appreciate the information, nonetheless.”

Robin rolls eyes and tosses the socks back to the pile, his cheeks flushing a bit beneath his stubble in a way she can’t help but find endearing. It’s odd really—he knows her better than anyone else in town and she’s spent more time with him over the course of the last few months with him than she has with any other person ever. He’s become a constant in her life, her go-to person and someone whose presence she genuinely enjoys—yet, despite the comfort she feels in his presence, there’s also an underlying nervousness that she’s not quite sure what to make of.

“I just… wanted to thank you,” she says with a shrug, holding up the take-out bag and coffee. “I’m not sure what it was that you said to Henry, but… whatever it was, I really appreciate it.”

Robin shakes his head, “Don’t mention it. It was…”

“Don’t say that it was nothing,” Regina cuts in with a little laugh. “He and I talked last night and… we’re in a better place now. And that wouldn’t have happened without you.”

“Sure it would have.”

“Maybe, but… it wouldn’t have been last night.” She takes a breath and extends the bag first. “So, I brought you breakfast as a… a token of my appreciation.”

“Honestly, you didn’t have to, but,” he grins as he accepts the coffee. “I am not going to complain about it.” She takes a breath as she looks around the shop, then looks back at her with a genuine interest. “So, things are really better, then?”

“Yeah,” she says with a little nod. “We had a… good night.”

“I’m glad,” he tells her in an earnest voice. “I hated seeing the both of you so upset.” She smiles in return watching as he peeks into the bag. “Can I interest you in half of a delicious bagel sandwich? I’d love to hear more about whatever it was that happened last night.”

“You… really want to hear about it?”

“I really do,” he tells with her a sincere nod.

“Okay,” she says, her heart fluttering unexpectedly as she realizes this is the first thing that they’ve done alone together without either of the boys somewhere nearby, and her morning meeting is all but forgotten. “Then I would love to split that sandwich.” Her lip catches between her teeth. “I, um, I’ve never had one.”

“You’ve never had one of Granny’s famous breakfast sandwiches?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Oh, Regina,” he says, reaching for her hand and giving it a little squeeze. “You are in for a real treat. They’re so simple, but so good—and no one makes ‘em like Granny.”

“I feel like that’s a challenge…”

His eyebrow arches. “Are you suggesting you could make this sandwich better?”

“Well, maybe,” she says with a shrug. “I mean, it’s just…an everything bagel with a fried egg and…”

“Just?” He asks, his eyes widening. “You really have no idea…” It’s only then that they both realize he’s still holding onto her hand—and rather suddenly, he drops it and clears his throat, then looks back at her. “I think you’ll change your mind once you’ve tried it.”

She rolls her eyes as she takes a sip of her coffee and lets out a breath over the lid her heart beats a little faster. She follows him through the store and into a small back office, and she grins a little awkwardly as he holds the door open for her. She watches as he sets the bag and his coffee down on his desk, shuffling around purchasing forms and stacks of files until the desk is cleared—and she can’t help but notice the picture of Roland on his desk.

He grins up at he as she reaches for the frame. “That was taken…last winter, I think,” he says with a little laugh. “He lost his first tooth and we celebrated with floats.”

“He looks so… cute with that missing tooth.”

“I thought so too,” Robin says, glancing quickly at the frame before stepping around her and pulling out the chair in front of his desk. “I loved his toothless little smile, even though it didn’t last very long” he says, motioning for her to sit. “Sometimes I wish I could just freeze time and make his childhood last just a little bit longer.”

For a moment, her stomach tightens and she nods as a pang of guilt strikes at her core as she watches him reach into the bag and pull out the sandwich and a couple of napkins, completely unaware of how ironic his words are.

“For you,” he murmurs as he splits the thick sandwich in half and wraps it in one of the napkins. “Prepare for to be overwhelmed by cheesy breakfast goodness and…” He stops for a moment, blinking down at the sandwich, suddenly noticing the sprigs of green poking out from between layers of egg and cheese. “What’s this?”

“Oh, um, I might have asked Granny to put some arugula on it…” She grimaces a little. “I hope you don’t mind.”

 “Of course you did,” he says with a soft chuckle as he sits down across from her. “You’re trying to win.”

“Really?” she laughs. “And how was I trying to win before there was anything to win?” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “I just felt like I should put something healthy in this thing so that I wasn’t giving you a heart attack wrapped in wax paper.”

“Hardly,” he scoffs.

“Oh, come on, Robin. This thing is smothered in cheese and has a greasy fried egg on it and…” Her brow creases as she looks down at her half of the sandwich. “And some sort of mayonnaise-based sauce…”

“Don’t knock the sauce,” he says with a soft chuckle, his blue eyes sparkling. “How about a little wager…”

“Another bet?”

“The first was a challenge—which you decided on, let me remind you.” She rolls eyes in reply, but nonetheless, she smiles and gives him her full attention. “If you don’t like this sandwich, I will make you dinner tonight—anything you want, I’ll make.”

“Oh,” she murmurs back as her smile widens. “And suppose I do like it?”

“Then you’ll make me dinner tonight.”

“You do realize that we’re already having dinner together with the boys…” Her eyebrow arches. “So unless one of us chooses chicken fingers or tacos, I don’t think they’ll appreciate this deal.”

“Of course,” he says easily as a smile twists onto his. “I can toss a pizza in the oven for them and… the two of us will have whatever the winner decides on.”

“Deal,” she says decisively as she uncrosses her arms and slides forward on the chair, sitting at the edge as she looks down at the sandwich, taking a quick and determined bite—and as much as she tries not to, she emits a little sigh and looks up at him regretfully as she chews. “This tastes… incredible.” A victorious grin stretches onto his lips as he settles back in his chair. “Is this… what is this sauce?”

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve been trying to get Granny to tell me for years.” She watches as he bites into his half of the sandwich. “Well, I’m glad that arugula didn’t ruin it.”

“I still think I could make it better…”

“Do you?”

“Absolutely,” she says, taking another bite. “I could absolutely beat this.”

“Then you’ll have to try to prove it sometime,” he replies playfully, rolling his eyes a little as he licks some of the sauce from his finger. “Not that you’ll be able to…” She laughs out, but his expression grows serious and leans forward to reach for his coffee. “But this little debate is going to have to be tabled for awhile. I really want to hear about Henry…”

A grin pulls at the corners of her mouth as she thinks of Henry—and her voice warms when she tells him about the previous night. She leaves out the part about her nightmare, not wanting to get off-topic and not wanting to have to explain the inexplicable, so she tells him about Henry’s curiosity and the way he quietly asked her for her side of the story. And she tells him how she’d answered as honestly as she could—telling him how she didn’t think she was the mother he deserved and telling him how Henry had simply made her promise not to give up on him, confessing that he needed his mom, and how making the promise was the easiest thing she’d ever had to do. Robin’s smile pulls tighter as she tells him how Henry had smiled as she took her hand and led her up the stairs, days of untold stories pouring out of him as they crawled into bed. She tells him how he’d curled into her as she reached for the book on, listening to him tell a couple more stories about friends at school—one of the boys in his class got a new puppy and one of the girls had a birthday and while he’d been glad for the cupcake, they weren’t as good as the ones that she made—and then finally, he’d let out a little yawn, and she’d opened _Prince Caspian_ and began to read. His smile warms as she tells him how she just couldn’t bring herself to stop reading, enjoying the closeness of her son and wanting to make up for lost time, and he understood without her telling him that she wasn’t merely talking about those few days of silence.

_____

At four o’clock she’s standing outside of the elementary school, and just beyond the double doors, she can see Henry putting on his coat and slipping his arms through his Captain America backpack. From his place in the hallway, he spots her, smiling brightly as he runs down the hall toward the doors, bursting out of them and crashing into her—and she laughs a little as her arm wraps around his shoulders, and in that moment, everything feels so normal.

“How was school?” She asks as she turns him around, breathing out a little sigh of relief when he smiles up at her and tells her that he had a good day. She listens as he tells her about how it was his turn to be captain and pick teams in gym class and how at how at recess he and his friends played a rather intense game of tug-of-war. She squeezes his hand as they walk down main street and he tells her about a math game they played that he actually liked  and the explains the new reading challenge each grade will be doing.

“So, can we read an extra chapter tonight?” Henry asks, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Since I have to track my minutes and everything? I really want my class to win this.”

“Two chapters?”

“Yeah,” he says with a serious nod. “I’ll even go to bed early if we can.”

“That’s not going to bed early,” she says, laughing softly as she looks down at him. “If we read an extra chapter, you’ll be going to bed past your bedtime… which is the exact opposite of early.”

“Oh,” he murmurs as he swings their hands back and forth. “Can you think about it, though? I really want to beat the fourth grade class.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “There’s this kid in the fourth grade class who’s such a know-it-all.” She laughs as Henry rolls his eyes and huffs a little. “He’s always bragging about all the books he reads and he doesn’t think that comics count.” Henry’s nose scrunches as he looks up at her. “He won’t the Spelling Bee and the Math Bowl last year. He _likes_ math.”

“Why don’t comic books count?”

He shrugs as he looks up at her, “Ms. Blanchard says they count.”

“Oh, then, I guess that’s all that matters…”

“Yeah…” She watches as a smile twists onto his lips. “So, can we read two chapters tonight?”

“Well, we do have a fourth grader to beat.”

She laughs a little as Henry grins, obviously pleased with how easy it was to convince her, not realizing that there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for him and nothing she wouldn’t give him. Only three days ago, she worried that he might never fully forgive her—that he’d recoil and stop talking to her, that he’d grow more and more distant and distrustful, that things could never go back to how they were—and as usual, she’d have only herself to blame. Yet as he held her hand he chatters on about the latest developments in _Prince Caspian_ —some of which she only vaguely remembers, despite having read it only the night before.

They walk into the grocery store and Henry runs ahead of her to get a cart, and she can help but smile at how small he looks standing behind it. He pushes it to her and walks along side her as they wander through the aisles and he continues to tell her about his day and his nose crinkles when reaches for a jar of artichoke hearts and places it in their cart.

“What are we having for dinner, anyway?” He blinks up at her. “That’s like the third gross thing that’s gone in our cart.”

“Oh, well, you and Roland are having pizza,” she begins, grinning as his shoulder relax, obviously glad not to be eating something that contains artichokes, olives and butternut squash. “Robin and I are having paella.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a Spanish thing,” she says as they turn toward the meat counter. “It’s got a bunch of vegetables in it and sausage and shrimp and rice.” She shrugs her shoulders as she reaches for a pack of hot Italian sausage. “I’ve never actually made it before,” she admits with a small and somewhat sheepish grin.

“How do you know what’s in it, then?”

“Oh, well, I found a recipe for it in one of my books, I just… have never actually made it.”

“But how do you know all of those things will taste good together,” he asks, looking skeptically between the olives and the butternut squash. “I mean, if you’ve never had it before…”

“I guess I don’t,” she tells him with a wink.  “So, who knows, maybe we’ll all be eating pizza tonight.”

“I’ll make sure I save you a slice,” Henry murmurs, once more grimacing as he examines the raw sausage. “I think you’ll want it.”

“I appreciate that,” she says with a little laugh as she reaches for a package of shrimp and tosses it into the cart. “And I think that’s all.”

“Can we rent a movie on the way to Robin’s?” Henry asks somewhat abruptly as he looks up at her with wide, hopeful eyes and a grin. “Roland I were thinking that maybe we could all watch a movie as we eat dinner.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“It’s been awhile since we all did that,” he tells her with a shrug. “We thought it’d be fun.”

“Well, I’m sure Robin has movies…”

“Roland and I want something very specific,” he tells her as they approach the checkout and Henry’s hands dive into the cart to load the groceries onto the conveyer belt. “We talked about it at recess.”

Her eyebrow arches as she pulls out her wallet. “Is there a new superhero movie out that I haven’t heard about?”

“Um, not exactly…” Henry says as grin stretches across her lips. “It’s… kind of a surprise.”

“Oh yeah?” He nods and pulls the last of the items from the cart as her fingers comb through the front of her hair. “Alright, so I’ll tell you what,” she begins as he looks up at her, batting his eyelashes sweetly as if she needs anymore convincing. “Why don’t you run next door and rent the movie while I pay for this, then we’ll swing by my office to pick up the car and head over to Robin’s, okay?”

She hands him a five dollar bill and watches as he runs off, keeping an eye on him until he disappears into the video store next door. She can just barely see him browsing through the aisles in search of his movie and she grins as he pulls it from the shelf, watching as he leans up onto the tips of his toes to pay the cashier—and once more she’s overwhelmed with gratitude for her second chance with him and a determination to make the most of it.

_____

When they arrive at Robin’s, he and Roland are out back. As soon as she turns off the car, Henry’s door flies open and he runs toward Roland, immediately whispering something to him that makes the smaller boy grin from ear to ear as he nods excitedly and clasps his hands together in a way that’s all too adorable. She eyes them curiously as she gets out the car, approaching the backyard a bit less enthusiastically, but nonetheless smiling in Robin’s direction as their eyes meet.

She feel that same strange nervous flutter at her core as he smiles back at her, hoisting up a basket of newly chopped firewood, as he reaches for the grocery bag as soon as she’s near enough.

“I think they’re plotting something,” she confesses, leaning in a little as her gaze shifts to the boys.

Robin looks over at them, his grin tugging tighter as Henry opens up the bag from the movie rental store and Roland nods emphatically as something he’s said. “Oh, they most definitely are…”

“I can’t figure it out,” she says with a sigh. “I tried to get Henry to tell me on the way over, and he’s usually so chatty. He can’t hold anything in.”

“Roland’s likely an easier target anyway…” Robin says looking back at her and chuckling softly as he shakes his head. “He’s still young enough to not really understand the point of secrets. He gets too excited and then forgets he’s supposed to be keeping a secret.”

Robin opens the door and she steps inside, pulling off her gloves and unbuttoning her coat as he sets the firewood down at the side of the hearth then takes the grocery bag into the kitchen and starts to unpack it, grinning as pulls out the packages of shrimp and sausage. By the time she joins him, the bag is unpacked and she notices a pre-made pizza sitting on the counter covered in plastic wrap—pepperoni masked by an overwhelming amount of cheese—and she smiles and thinks the added cheese is likely Roland’s handiwork.

“You know,” he begins as he picks up a jar of roasted red peppers and examines them. “You don’t have to make this alone. I’m very willing to…”

“Nope,” she cuts in, shaking her head as she leans against the counter. “A bet is a bet.”

“Yeah, but…”

“I insist,” she says quickly, pushing herself away from the counter and reaching for the jar of peppers. “The deal was that I would make you dinner and, if anything, I am a woman of my word.” She grins up at him. “Even if I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Regina,” he begins with a light laugh. “I highly doubt that…”

“No, it’s true. I’ve never made paella. It’s definitely out of my culinary wheelhouse.”

He rolls his eyes as his arms fold over his chest. “Have you ever prepared a bad meal in your entire life?” He blinks in her direction, “Because if you have, it’s never been on a Tuesday night.” She laughs out and rolls her eyes in reply. “I’m serious, you have no idea the amount of planning and prepping that I do before it’s my turn to host dinner,” he tells her. “You set a high bar…”

“You’re a great cook…”

“No,” he says offering a sheepish grin. “Betty Crocker is a great cook. I am good at following instructions… sometimes.” He grins. “I’ve been very deliberate in what I’ve allowed you to see.” He chuckles softly and motions to the pizza. “That’s pre-made crust, jarred sauce, pre-cut pepperoni, and bagged cheese… and thankfully, the crust came with instructions for the rest.”

“Well, you pull it off well.”

“I’m glad it’s taken you this long to discover just how inept I truly am.”

“Hardly…”

And then she feels it again, that fluttering in her chest that makes heat rise at the back of her neck as her cheeks flush—and when she lets her eyes meet his, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes as he shoves his hands into his pockets and grins, obviously enjoying the banter.

“So,” he beings as he turns away from the counter, turning to the cabinet for a bowl. “Did Henry tell you he has a fractions test tomorrow?”

“Somehow, he failed to mention that,” Regina says with a sigh. “He told me everything about his day, right down to how he dropped his spoon and had to get another one in the cafeteria to eat his pudding, but somehow, he failed to tell me a math test.”

“Ahh, well, it’s a good thing you’re here,” he says, turning away from her and going into the adjoining living room and hold up a plastic bag of colorful blocks that look a little bit like legos. “Mary Margaret Blanchard let me take some of these blocks home. So, if you don’t mind having a tiny helper in the kitchen, I’d love to spend some time reviewing with him.”

“I would love that,” she says as a smile tugs onto her lips, “Both the help for Henry and the tiny helper.”

And twenty minutes later, Robin and Henry are stretched out on the living room floor, moving around colorful blocks as they work through adding and subtracting fractions. She grins as she watches Henry kick his feet back and forth and as Robin tussles his hair when he works through a particularly difficult problem—and then she turns her attention back to Roland, sitting on the countertop beside her, grimacing down at the partially-frozen shrimp floating in a bowl of water beside him.

“What are you making again?”

“Paella,” she tells him.

“Somehow, I don’t think its real pie.”

Regina laughs out and shakes her head. “And you’re right about that. It’s… a rice dish.”

“With fish…”

“And sausage and vegetables.”

Roland crinkles his nose as he looks up at her. “That’s a lot of things I don’t like.”

“Well, that’s why you and Henry are having a very cheesy pizza,” she tells him with a grin. “But don’t think I won’t try to sneak some vegetables on to it.” She laughs as he looks up at her with wide and slightly horrified eyes. “I am determined to find _one_ vegetable you like.”

“That probably won’t happen.”

“We’ll see about that,” Regina laughs. “Can you hand me that spoon?”

Roland nods and hands it to her, brandishing it like it’s a sword, as she pours the blended peppers and tomatoes into the saucepan. From the corner of her eye she can see him watching her carefully, and she grins as she nods toward a bowl of rice. “Hand me that, too?”

“Okay,” Roland says easily, grunting a little as he lifts the glass bowl. “This one’s heavy.”

“Oh…”

“But it’s okay,” he tells her in a reassuring voice. “I can handle it.”

“I bet you can,” she grins, taking it from him and adding it to the tomato and pepper sauce before reducing the head on the stove to low. “Can you mix it for me while I get the…” She stops, suddenly feeling a little lost in a kitchen that’s not hers. “Do you know where your dad keeps the spices… salt and things like that?”

“The cabinet next to the refrigerator,” Roland says, barely looking up as he sloshes the spoon through the rice and sauce, breathing in the smell of it and smiling. “That’s also where the noodles are.”

Regina nods and laughs at the added bit of information and turns toward the cabinet, and almost immediately feels her heart jump when she notices a crayon-drawn picture taped to the refrigerator. The picture is glued to a red heart cut out of construction paper with the words ‘My Family’ written across the top. She sucks in a short breath as she looks at the drawing of the four of them—Roland and Henry in their Halloween costumes and Robin and herself beside them… holding hands.

“We had to draw a favorite family memory,” Roland explains.

“Oh,” she murmurs turning back. “That was a fun night.”

“Yeah,” Roland agrees with a nod as his smile fades. “And I don’t remember my mom, so…”

“Well, you and your dad are a family.”

“I know,” he says with a little sigh. “But it’s… it’s just more fun with you and Henry, too.” His cheeks flush a little as he looks away from her. “Sometimes, I just like to pretend that …that Henry’s my big brother and you’re… my… my mom.” His voice trails off shyly and his smile fades entirely. “I know it’s not real, but I just… sometimes I like to pretend.”

She lets out a shaky breath as she looks past him for a moment, watching as Henry and Robin high five and laugh and again, she feels that soft fluttering in her heart as she looks back at Roland. “It’s not pretend,” she says, taking a step in and squeezing his knees. “Families come in… all different shapes and sizes. There’s not one right or wrong way to make a family.” She shrugs as a smile tugs onto her lips. “Families can be… whatever you want them to be and made up of whomever you choose to be in them.” Once more she glances past him, watching as Robin points to one of the blocks and Henry drags it into one of the piles. “And the four of us are definitely a family.”

“You think of me and my daddy as family?”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “I do.”

Roland just smiles as he turns his attention back to stirring the rice and once more Regina lets out a shaky breath, feeling something indescribable stirring within her—a sort of warmth mixed with guilt and something else she can’t quite pinpoint—a she reaches for the salt and paprika. Roland watches as she shakes in a little bit of salt and paprika, and she grins as she reaches into the other bowl on the opposite side of the stove, where a mix of bell peppers, olives, mushrooms and artichokes sit. She plucks out an orange pepper and hands the slice to Roland. “Try this.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just try it,” she insists, grinning as he tentatively takes it from her. “I think you’ll like it. It’s sweet.” He blinks skeptically at her as he takes a small bite off the tip of the pepper and she grins as she pours some olive oil into a skillet, watching as a small, barely-there smile tugs onto Roland lips and he takes another bite. “So?”

“It _is_ sweet.”

“I told you…”

“I didn’t think vegetables could taste sweet,” he as he tosses the rest of the pepper into his mouth. “That…was not terrible.” She laughs, rolling her eyes as he turns up the heat. “I mean… for a vegetable.”

“You know, I have another orange pepper. It’s already cut up and it’s not too late to add it to the pizza.” Roland blinks, eyeing her skeptically as he swallows his pepper. “Trust me,” she murmurs, leaning in and gently grabbing his chin. “You’ll like it.”

A little grin forms on his lips as he nods. “Okay…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” He nods. “It’s not like it’s a green vegetable. Those ones are the worst.”

She laughs out when she notices he’s eyeing a bag of frozen peas on the countertop, and she lifts him off the counter and points him in the direction of the peppers as she drops the cut up sausage and shrimp into the skillet and turns up the heat. She keeps an eye on him, watching as he takes the plate and climbs up onto the stool near the sink, and pulls back the plastic covering the pizza and arranges the cut up peppers into a smiley face. She tosses the shrimp and sausage and adds them into the saucepan, then dumps in the rest of cut up vegetables, giving them a quick stir before helping Roland put the pizza in to oven and grinning when she turns on the oven light so he can watch it bake.

“So, you have a birthday coming up, I hear…”

“Oh, yeah,” Roland murmurs, keeping a watchful eye on the pizza in the oven. “In twelve days.” He looks back at her quickly. “That’s a little bit less than two weeks.”

“Do you have… plans for it?” She asks, suddenly realizing that Robin hasn’t brought up his son’s birthday and then remembering with a small pang of guilt that Roland’s birthday also marks the anniversary of Marian’s death—and in the back of her head, she wonders if that’s the real story or if it was one that she planted. “I mean…”

“Daddy and I usually do something fun,” Roland explains. “Last year, we played mini-gold and got hot dogs and…” He grins. “And I got a bike.” He shrugs a little as his grin fades away. “I’m always a little sad on my birthday,” he tells her. “That’s the day my mom died, too.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, absently reaching out and stroking her fingers through his messy hair. “That must be hard.”

“Yeah,” Roland nods. “Some days…” He blinks. “But it’s hard missing someone I never even got to know.” He looks back at the pizza. “I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she says in a tentative voice. “Then I won’t make you…”

“Henry said you took him to Coney Island for his birthday…”

“Yeah, it was a fun day,” she says as a little smile tugs onto her lips. “It was the first birthday he and I spent together.”

“That sounds really fun,” he sighs. “I just wish, just once, that…” His voice trails off and his cheeks flush a little as he looks back at her, then quickly looks away once more focusing entirely on the pizza and she turns back to folding the meat and vegetables into the sauce. She looks back at him every few minutes, watching as he watches the pizza and watching his blank expression through the reflection on the oven window…

And then a small smile tugs onto her lips as an idea creeps into her head.

_____

They have dinner—and both the pizza and paella are a hit. It doesn’t escape from her notice that the boys arrange the table in a way that Robin and Regina are sitting side-by-side and she can’t help but notice how quickly they inhale their pizza, leaving their respective parents alone in the dining room. She laughs a little and her cheeks flush as Henry dims the lights—murmuring something about learning the importance of conserving electricity in science class—leaving them to finish the meal by themselves. And when they’re finished and everything’s cleaned up and put away, they join the boys in the living room to find a fire burning in the lights off while a fire crackles at the hearth.

Regina grimaces as lets out a short breath, as she looks over to find the boys sprawled out on the larger couch, leaving only the love-seat for their parents—and when the _Little Mermaid_ starts to play, it becomes all too obvious that their sons are trying to set them up in a way that only a six and eight year old could.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I think… this is Henry’s doing.”

Robin just grins and shrugs his shoulders, “Don’t worry about it.” He grins as he pulls a knit afghan from the back of the couch and fans it out over their laps. “I love the little crab in this.”

“I… don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

“Oh, it’s a classic!”

She laughs a little at the sincerity in his voice and settles back, both a little comforted and unnerved by his ease, as the movie starts to play—and she has to admit, the warmth of the fire and the blanket is nice—and just as she finds herself relaxing, watching Ariel’s sisters perform a musical number, Robin reaches down at the side of the love seat, pulling back little lever as the bottom of the couch shoots up to elevate their feet.

And once more, she feels that nervous fluttering at her core.

By the time Ursula curses Ariel, taking her voice for her own, Regina’s eyes are heavy and she struggles to keep them open. The movies music flutters in and out, and she’s only barely aware that her head has fallen onto Robin’s shoulder as _Kiss the Girl_ plays on the screen, and Roland and Henry look back at their parents with a disappointed sigh. Robin shifts and she murmurs something inaudible as she pulls the blanket around herself and his arm slowly folds around her.

It’s just past eight-thirty when the movies over and Prince Eric and Ariel are waving their goodbyes, Regina is completely asleep and the boys frown in disappointment as Robin carefully leans over to flick on the light. Henry sits up, blinking nervously between them—both disappointment and concern evident.

“She’s really out…” Robin murmurs to him.

“Should we wake her?”

“Oh, I think… I think it’d be okay if we just let her sleep,” Robin says, knowing she didn’t get much sleep the night before—and using that as an excuse not to wake her up and send her home where she could get a good night’s sleep in her own bed, not wanting to admit he simply enjoyed having her this close. “You guys can stay the night.”

A wide grin stretches across Roland’s lips, but Henry shifts forward, peering down at Regina as his brow furrows in concern. “But I… don’t have pajamas.”

“You can borrow one of my t-shirts,” Robin says, “Top drawer in the long dresser in my room. You can go grab one, and sleep in Roland’s room.”

“But…” Henry sits up, once more looking between Roland and Robin. “But sometimes… she… she has nightmares.” Henry blinks as his lip catches between his teeth and his brow creases. “What if she has a nightmare? What if she wakes up and… and is in a strange place and she’s scared?”

Slowly, Robin looks from Henry to Regina, smiling gently as he turns back to him and offering him a smile that’s both sincere and reassuring. “I promise you, Henry, I’ll take care of her.”

“Okay, but…” He watches as Henry considers for a moment, fumbling nervously with his hands. “She doesn’t like to talk about the dreams,” he begins in a tentative voice. “But she likes to just… talk… about other stuff. And she likes warm milk and honey. It makes her feel better. But you can’t make it too hot, just… just warm.”

“I think I can manage that,” Robin tells him in a serious voice. “Is there anything else I should know?”

He grins as Henry considers, finding the boy’s concern for his mother sweetly endearing. “Sometimes she drools in her sleep, but we don’t talk about that either.”

Robin stifles his urge to laugh, and instead nods seriously in Henry’s direction. “Warm milk and honey, but no mention of nightmares and drool. Got it.”

“Oh, and sometimes… sometimes she wake up really early, but she doesn’t like to get up. She just lays there and thinks about stuff. She doesn’t like to talk about that either.”

“Okay…”

“And…” Henry’s voice halts and a little smile forms on his lips. “Sometimes she just… just kind of talks in her sleep,” he adds. “It never makes any sense and it doesn’t happen all of the time. Sometimes it’s more sounds than words, and she usually doesn’t remember that in the morning.”

“Alright…”

“And she’s a really light sleeper. Noises and things wake her up really easily,” he confides. “And sometimes, she has trouble going back to sleep.”

“Should I do anything if that happens?”

Henry considers it for a moment, and then shakes his head. “No, not unless she wakes up because of a nightmare.”

“Okay,” Robin says with a little nod. “Anything else I need to know?”

Henry thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing—then a small grin forms on his lips. “No, that’s all.”

“You’re sure?” Henry gives him a decisive nod and he watches as the boy’s shoulders relax as a grin pulls at Robin’s lips when he glances down at Regina sleeping against him. “Okay, why don’t you go grab that shirt and wash up, and you,” he says, as his eyes shift to Roland. “Change into your pajamas and grab a few extra pillows and blankets, okay?” Roland nods, quickly running off in the direction of his bedroom, but Henry lingers and Robin watches as he watches his mother, still unsure that leaving her is the best opinion—and once more, a grin pulls onto Robin’s lips. “Henry,” he says, waiting for the boy’s eye to shift to him. “I promise you, she’s safe here.”

“You really promise?”

“I really promise,” Robin says with a grin. “I like her way too much to let anything happen to her or to let her feel scared or…” He sighs, realizing he’s saying more than necessary. “She’ll be fine.”

Henry nods and finally slides of the couch, grinning between them. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“I think… I think she likes you, too.” He grins. “Actually, I know she does.”

Robin can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as Henry runs off, grabbing a t-shirt from his room and then joins Roland in his bedroom. He waits for the boys’ chatter to fade away and waits for the light to turn off, before turning off the lamp beside the couch as he pulls the blanket up around them, and settles in, closing his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep—smiling because she’s there with him and smiling because she likes him, too.

_____

 When her eyes slowly flutter open, the first thing she’s aware of his warmth.

It’s morning, but it’s still dark outside and she’s still lying against him, her cheeks flushing as she realizes she spent the night this way. But her embarrassment for having fallen asleep on him is fleeting—his arm is wrapped around her shoulders and his head rests atop hers and he smells of evergreen and soap—a smile tugs onto her lips at the realization that she actually slept through the night. Tilting her head up, she looks at the clock on the wall, squinting her eyes until she can read the time, smiling when she realizes that it’s just a little past four-thirty, and there’s time to cuddle back in and enjoy this feeling while it lasts. So, she presses closer to him, letting her eyes fall shut as she breathes him in, and slowly drifting back to sleep.

To her, it feels like only a few minutes have passed, but when her eyes open, the sun is glowing behind the heavy drapes and Robin is still asleep. She can see him more clearly know, grinning as she picks up her head, resting her chin on his chest as she looks up at him, watching as he sleeps with his arm still wrapped around her shoulder. She blinks a couple of times, looking at the clock. It’s nearly seven and regretfully, she pulls away from him, shivering a little as he blanket falls away from her and grinning when he doesn’t wake up. Slowly, she stretches out her arms, yawning as she looks around and tucks her hair behind her ears, noticing the case to the Little Mermaid DVD sitting on the coffee table—and smiling, wondering if they realize how well their little plan worked out.

Padding down the hall, she pokes her head into Roland’s bedroom, grinning as her eyes fall onto the boys, still asleep at opposite ends of Roland’s bed. They look so sweet, contently curled up beneath the heavy blankets. There’s a still-open comic book resting on Henry’s chest and her grin widens at the realization that they probably fell asleep reading about new adventure the Avengers had set out on—and her heart flutters gently in her chest as she pulls the door closed, wanting to let them sleep just a little longer.

Robin is still asleep when goes back to the living room and she chuckles softly at him, clutching onto the blanket and holding it in the same way he’d been holding her just a couple of minutes before—and a sad smile stretches onto her lips as finds herself wondering what she’s supposed to do about the way she feels. She can’t tell him—not like this, not with the curse between them—and logically, she knows some distance between them would be best for the both of them. Yet she can’t bring herself to do that because, in spite of everything, she’s not ready to lose whatever it is that they have between them.

With a sigh, she pushes away those thoughts—something she’s become quite skilled at doing— and goes into the kitchen, suddenly remembering the sandwich from the morning before and laughing quietly to herself as she opens the refrigerator to scan the contents. Reaching for an egg, her smile pulls tighter and she reaches for the frying pan from is place in the dish rack.

Twenty minutes later, she plates the sandwich and carries it into the living room, sitting down on the edge of the coffee table as she her hand pushes against Robin’s knee, laughing a little as he flinches and grunts as his eyes slowly open.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he murmurs groggily as a slow smile pulls onto his lips. “Wh-what time is it?”

“A little after seven,” she tells him, as she reaches for the plate and extends it to him. “And it’s also time for breakfast.”

He blinks a couple of times as he stares at the bagel sandwich sitting on the plate—and she watches as realization settles in his eyes. Perking up, he takes the plate, narrowing his eyes in her direction as she offers him a smug smile—determined to win the bet they’d made the morning before.

“You made this…”

“I did,” she nods. “And while my choices were limited to what’s in your refrigerator, I think I did a pretty good job.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he says with a nod as he examines the sandwich. “But I just don’t think anything can top the sandwich from Granny’s.” Her eyebrow arches as he picks up the sandwich and takes a bite—and before he can even say anything she smiles victoriously as his eyes sink closed and he breathes out in satisfaction. “Oh my god…”

“Yeah?”

“Regina, this is…” He licks a little bit of the sauce from his lips, slowly turning his eyes up to meet her. “I… I owe you an apology. I completely underestimated you. This is… incredible.”

“I know,” she says as a tight smile forms on her lips. “I told you.”

“But…how?” He asks, as he takes another, bigger bite, looking up at her as he does. “I had this in my refrigerator?”

She nods. “Canadian bacon instead of ham; an everything bagel toasted in the oven, not a toaster; and the egg is sunny side up instead of fried.” She grins. “And a little bit of fresh spinach from your garden sautéed in the grease from the Canadian bacon.”

He blinks, “And the sauce? The sauce is… so much tangier and definitely spicier. There’s no way this came out of my refrigerator.”

“Oh, that,” she begins as a sly smile stretches across her lips. “That is a secret I will never tell.”

He starts to protest, but she laughs out and he takes another bite of the sandwich. “Oh my god I could… it’s like you’re magic. I could kiss you right now because this is…” His voice stops, suddenly aware of his words as her smile changes—not necessarily fading—and his cheeks flush a deep red. “I just mean… this sandwich is… just…”

“That good,” she supplies for him, offering a little nod of understanding. “I know,” she murmurs, thinking of what it would be like to actually kiss him—to feel his hands slide into her hair as he drew her in, to feel his warm lips against her, and to feel what it would be like to just give in—even if for a just a moment.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Roland’s sixth birthday, Regina enlists Henry’s help to do something special–and when Henry picks something that requires crossing the town line, Regina has to find a way to make it happen.

Regina chuckles softly as a grin tugs onto her lips as she stops herself in the door way of the living room, watching the way that Henry’s sprawled across the couch, completely unaware of anything around him and completely enthralled Saturday morning cartoons. He’s wearing a new pair of Spiderman pajamas—and her grin pulls tighter as she think of the way he’s rubbed the warm fleece against his cheek and hugged them close as he looked up at her with wide hazel eyes, not realizing the entire point of the their shopping trip was to get him some warmer things in preparation for the coming winter. She shakes her head at the realization that he’s only wearing only one of his slippers; the other rests forgotten on the floor beneath his bare foot that dangles off the edge of the couch. There’s a box of Captain Crunch tucked between his knees and a box of Cocoa Puffs at his side, and her laugh goes unnoticed as she watches him dip one fist into one box as he eats the other cereal from his palm, staring wide-eyed and completely captivated at the television across from him unaware of her presence—and for an all too brief moment, she loses herself in her thoughts, unable to think of anything other than how much she loves the little boy in front of her.

She’d never been a fan of weekends. They only served as reminders of her loneliness. It’s so strange to think that only a handful of months before, a Saturday morning would have meant waking up to complete silence and instead a cartoon’s theme song and a little boy’s laugh. And it’s strange to think that just a few months before there wasn’t a pair of muddy sneakers by the door and there wasn’t a Captain America backpack perpetually propped against the bottom stair; there weren’t drawings and school work scattered across refrigerator, hung up with homemade magnets, and there certainly wasn’t a reason to be up at seven-fifteen on a Saturday. But now, her cupboards were now filled with fruit snacks and Teddy Grahams, there were stacks of comic books on the coffee table and smudges on the window where Henry liked to sit and read—and it amazes her that there was ever a time she hadn’t realized how desperately she needed all of those things.

Swallowing hard she pushes away the lonely memories and smiles at Henry, not allowing her thoughts to wander too far out of the present, not allowing them to worry about what might lay before them when he discovers the inevitable—because  the thought of a life without him in it is unfathomable, and the life she had before him feels like it belonged to someone else.

She can’t help but laugh as Henry’s now-empty palm dips into the box of Captain Crunch as the other hand draws out a fist full of Cocoa Puffs, and he begins to snack, completely unaware of her presence and completely engrossed in whatever cartoon he’s watching—and she almost hates to interrupt.

“Two cereals?” She asks with a slight chuckle behind her words as she sinks down beside him and tips the box of Cocoa Puffs toward herself, grinning as she peers down into it, somewhat astonished by how quickly an eight-year old boy could make his way through a week’s worth of groceries. “How much of this have you eaten?”

“Oh…” He murmurs, looking up at her with wide and suddenly concerned eyes as his chewing slows. “I… I couldn’t decide which I wanted. Is it okay that I took both?”

There’s a nervousness that piques in his voice, and for a brief moment, she’s taken aback by his question and the look of alarm that registers in his eyes. She feels a pang of guilt at her work choices, reminded what his life before coming home with her to Storybrooke was like—and she’s reminded of the sheepish way he’d asked her if he could get two cereals when they’d been grocery shopping the evening before, as if he were asking for something far more extravagant than a couple of four-dollar boxes of cereal.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to eat it,” she replies gently, reaching out and touching her fingers to his chin as she offers him a warm grin. “I was just hoping you saved some room for some _actual_ food.” A grin twists onto her lips. “And I’m hoping to avoid the inevitable sugar crash.” Leaning in, she rubs the tip of her nose against his. “Because I am pretty certain a grumpy pilgrim isn’t going to work for Ms. Blanchard later this morning.”

 “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that…”

She nods and shakes her head as her smile pulls tighter as Henry’s nose scrunches. Mary-Margaret Blanchard’s annual Thanksgiving Pageant was schedule for the afternoon before Thanksgiving—and Henry was less than enthused. The week before when she’d picked him up from school, he’d gotten into the car with a huff, pouting out his bottom lip as he explained about the pageant. Of course, she’d know about it for years, and her office had to sign off on the funding, but she’d listened quietly as he grumbled about the costumes and the songs and the dances—and though she wasn’t entirely sure what he found so off-putting about the whole thing, she found his grumpy side endearing.

By the time they’d gotten home, he’d given her all of the basic information—he, as a third grader would be a pilgrim, which was at least better than the younger students who would have to dress up as leaves and corn and wheat—and he scowled all through dinner. She’d stifled the urge to laugh at his dramatic mutterings and exaggerated sighs, and though she’d never been a fan of the production, she had to admit that he was going to look cute in his buckled shoes and cardboard hat. Since then, a couple of hours each day at school were dedicated to preparing for the pageant, and Saturdays they had to come in to rehearse; and despite all of his complaints, he did seem to enjoy it, and she enjoyed watching him interact with the other kids—laughing and teasing and so much more confident than he’d been just a few months before.

Henry giggles a little as his lip catches between his teeth and he looks up shyly. “I’m just in the background. I don’t even have lines or anything. No one would notice.”

“But there’s that song you have to sing with the group and that little skippy-dancy thing you have to do—and _trust me_ , Ms. Blanchard’s pep will be a lot harder to handle if you’re miserable and just want to nap.”

“Yeah…” he murmurs, still looking a bit unsure. Her breath hitches in her chest because she understands what he’s feeling and knows what it’s like to spend each day waiting for the bottom to fall out from underneath you and to find yourself freefall back to the very beginning. “So, you’re… you’re not…mad that I opened both?”

“Not at all,” she tells him, her voice sincere as she lifts his chin, tipping it up so that he can see her smile. “I won’t knock your cereal-eating habits if you won’t knock my morning smoothies.”

Henry giggles—this time with a bit more confidence— and a lopsided grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “But they’re _green_. And they look like they _taste green_ , too.”

“And what exactly does _green_ taste like?”

“Gross,” he says decisively. “Green tastes like gross.”

She can’t help but laugh as she rolls her eyes. “We are going to have to agree to disagree on this one.”

“Sure it does,” he says as a lopsided grin tugs onto his lips. “At least my cereals taste good together.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she tells him with a little laughed, as she brushes his hair from his forehead and leans in to kiss him. “So, how about some eggs…”

“And toast?” He asks, perking up a little. “Can we have toast with the eggs.”

“Sure,” she says with a decided nod. “Scrambled? Fried? Sunny side up? What do think?” She shakes her head and feels a soft fluttering in her chest as Henry’s brow furrows, as if the question requires a deep amount of consideration. “Or we can make omelets?”

“Can we!?”

“Yeah,” she tells him, standing up and offering him her hand, and smiling as his sticky fingers touch to her palm. “I have cheese and tomatoes from last night’s tacos. What else do you want in it?”

“Bacon,” he says quickly, this time needing no time for.

“You’d put bacon on anything, wouldn’t you?”

Henry giggles at the question—and once more, she feels a smile tugging onto her lips as they reach the kitchen. He lets go of her hand, immediately climbing up onto one of the stools at the counter and watching as she gets out the bacon out of the refrigerator. He helps her lay it out on a baking sheet and beats the eggs together with a fork as she slides the bacon into the oven, and the worry and discomfort he’d felt just minutes before fades away, replaced by an in-depth summary of the Superman cartoon he’d been watching.

She listens intently as she dices the tomatoes—nodding and grinning at all the right moments—unwraps a few slices of American Cheese—something she’d never even knew existed until Henry came into her life. And when the skillet is warm enough, she pour the egg mixture into the it, waiting until it’s warm and fluffy before adding the cheese, and Henry grins  as he leans up onto the tips of his toes, inhaling deeply as his eyes close and the chatter trails off.

When the toast pops up from the toaster, Henry selects strawberry jam for himself and gets out the apple butter for her, smearing them onto pieces of toast and dropping them down beside the omelets as Regina pours the orange juice. They settle at the dining room table, and she can’t help but laugh as Henry’s fork cuts into the omelet before he’s even fully seated.

“Roland’s birthday is coming up soon,” Henry says as he shoves a mouthful of omelet into his mouth. “Can we go shopping today to get him something before rehearsal?”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod as she presses her fork into her own omelet. “I’d like to.”

“He’s really into Batman right know,” Henry says, looking up at her. “But I don’t know what comics he already has.”

“I could ask Robin,” she suggests, as her thoughts begin to drift back to the conversation she had with Roland about his birthday earlier in the week. “There’s something I want to talk to him about anyway, but before I do, I kind of want to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“Well, Roland’s birthday,” she begins. “When we were at Robin’s for dinner on Tuesday, he mentioned that they’ve never really done anything for his birthday.”

“That’s because it’s the day his mom died. It makes them sad.”

“Yeah, I know,” she murmurs as she bites into her toast. “So, I was thinking that—maybe as sort of a thank you for Roland and Robin for being such good friends to us—we could do something special for Roland’s birthday. Something that’s… just the four of us, something Roland would really enjoy that he doesn’t get to do very often, and something that could maybe take their minds off being sad.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Do you know of anything that Roland would like to do? I’m not really sure where to begin…”

“Hmmm,” Henry says as he bites into his toast. “Can I think about it for awhile? Because I think it’ll have to be really special to take his mind off of his mom.”

“Yeah, of course.” She grins as Henry leans back in the chair, slowly chewing his food and twirling his fork as he considers it, and once more, she can’t help but think of how incredible happy this sweet little boy makes her—and then, her thoughts begin to drift to whatever the following weekend will entail and the thought of spending an entire day with Henry and Roland and Robin in celebration of Roland’s sixth birthday, and when her smile pulls tighter across her lips, she can’t help but feel a bit taken aback by how happy those thoughts make her feel.

_____

Tugging on her coat, she calls for Henry again, and once more is met by an obviously distracted _I’ll be down in a minute!_ reply. Rolling her eyes, she knots the belt and reaches for Henry’s coat and the gray and red striped scarf he fell in love with on their last outing. She smiles a little, remembering how he’d slowly pulled it from the rack—grinning as he explained that it reminded him of the scarves students at Hogwarts wore. Her eyes had narrowed and her head tipped to the side as Henry’s eyes widened in shock at the revelation his mother knew nothing of Harry Potter. The next thing she knew, they were in the book aisle and Henry was dropping _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ into the cart—and then she added in the rest. On the way home that night Henry chattered on excitedly about how he’d spend cold Saturday mornings curled up on a bean bag chair in the children’s section of the New York Public Library reading _Harry Potter_ —something she found equal parts endearing and heart breaking.

“Henry are you…” Her voice halts as his bedroom door opens, and before she even has time to look up, Henry is bounding toward her on the stairs. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down,” she says, holding out her hands as she finds her voice. “What’s the rush?”

“I figured it out! I figured out what we can do for Roland’s birthday!” Her eyebrows arch and a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as Henry pushes folded up brochure into her hand—and as soon as she looks down at her, her heart skips a beat. “It’s perfect. It’s a zoo and an amusement park in one. They have lamas and mountain lions and sloths and ostrichs and fennec foxes and _even_ a spider monkey. Plus all of the ride are for little kids, so Roland could go on all of them. There’s an amphibian room and a butterfly garden and a train and a fun house, _and_ it’s just a couple of hours away.” Regina blinks and looks from the brochure to Henry, whose eyes are wide and hopeful. “It’s in York.”

“H-how did you… find this?”

“Well, when we were driving here, we passed it,” Henry says easily, too excited to pick up on her obvious discomfort. “Remember? We were going to stop, but it was getting late and I kept falling asleep.”

“Yeah,” she says, just barely managing to push out her voice as she looks down at the glossy cover of the York Zoo and Amusement Park brochure. “I remember that.”

“We got the brochure at a rest stop.”

“Right…”

“So, can we go? Can we take Roland?”

She barely hears the questions and Henry’s voice echoes in her ears, drowned out by the rapid beats of her heart. An ache settles in her chest, making it difficult to breathe, and she can’t bring herself to look up from the brochure at her fingertips. She can hear Henry still talking, explaining something about the amusement park, but she can’t quite make out his words. Her mouth is dry and her head is spinning, and when she finally looks back at Henry, she can’t think of any logical reason she should say no to the idea—after all, Henry did exactly what she asked of him—and it’s not like she can just nonchalantly explain that Robin and Roland aren’t able to cross the town line, that they’re perpetually stuck in their cursed existence, so instead, she says nothing.

“Well? What do you think?” She blinks and takes a breath and watches as Henry’s brow furrows a bit. “Mom, it’d be so fun. Please?”

She lets out a shallow breath as he calls her mom—something she’s still not completely used to and a title she wears as if a badge of honor—and she finds herself nodding. “Well, I… I have to clear it with Robin and…”

“YES!” Henry exclaims, throwing himself forward and wrapping his arms around her waist, knocking her back just a little as her arms instinctively fold around him. “This is going to be the best,” he tells her, as he pulls back and hops off the last stair. She turns, and watches Henry slip into his coat and she flinches as he reaches for the scraf draped over her arm. “Make sure you bring the brochure to show Robin.”

“Oh,” she nods and glances at the brochure between her fingers, “Yeah. Of course,” she tells him, silently hoping that Robin has an animal-dander allergy or perhaps Roland gets sick in the car—but there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach that tells her neither of those things are true and she hates herself for already knowing that she’ll never actually find out, that she has no intention of talking to Robin about the amusement park and the inevitable disappointment that will settle in Henry’s eyes will be a result of yet another lie she’s told, another lie that she’s built her entire life around.

The knot in her stomach tightens and tightens as they walk toward the elementary school with Henry chattering on as he holds her hand, swinging it back and forth. He doesn’t seem to realize that the conversation they’re having isn’t a conversation at all, and that he’s the only one talking. In some ways, it’s a relief.

They make their way to the gym and Henry waves goodbye, then disappears into a crowd of small children—and she falls back into one of the folding chairs against the wall. Her eyes close and her head tilts back—hating herself for what she can’t change. It’s not just that she’ll disappoint Henry—it’s that for an all too brief and fleeting moment, she allowed herself to think of what it’d be like to pack the boys up into the car, and go for a long drive up the interstate, pointing out the changing colors of the trees; she thought about how Roland and Henry would ride rides together, how they’d laugh and scream, how their cheeks would be red from the cool, fall air and how they’d sip hot chocolate as she looked at the animals; and she thought about what it would be like to share that experience with Robin. She let herself think that it might be like Halloween—that he might take her hand and her fingers might lace through his, that they’d trade grins and he’d look at her the way that he sometimes does, and for just a little while, she could pretend that they could be more than they are.

She sighs softly and swallows hard, hating that she let herself think about those things—because not only has she disappointed Henry, she’s disappointed herself. And somehow, she feels than she did before.

“Hey, you.” She blinks her eyes open as Robin sits down beside her, nudging her arm. “Rough morning?”

“Not… exactly,” she murmurs unconvincingly.

“You sure?” He asks, arching his eyebrow at her. “You have the same look on your face that you had when Mary Margaret Blanchard made you come up on stage and pretend to be a tee-pee and a bunch of second graders had to dance around you.” He grins, obviously enjoying the memory. “For a solid hour.”

“Are you telling me I look homicidal?”

“No,” he says with a slight chuckle. “I’m telling you that you look miserable.”

“I’m not though…”

“Fine,” he concedes as he leans back in the chair beside her. “You don’t have to tell me.” With a sigh she crosses her arms over her chest. “But maybe coffee will help.”

“I’m not in the mood for the burnt Maxwell House this school serves.”

“Oh, but it’s not Maxwell House…” He nudges her again. “It’s fresh from home and still hot.”

Slowly, she turns and looks at the stainless steel travel mug he’s extending her. “You… brought me coffee.”

“Well, I know how particular you can be…” He murmurs, grinning as she takes the mug from him. “And I made a whole pot, so it seemed appropriate.”

“Thank you,” she tells him with a sincere nod. “I… appreciate it.”

“Had I known you were having a rough morning I’d have made it of the Irish variety.”

A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. “That’s illegal, you know.”

“Is it?”

“We’re in a school.”

“And you’re the mayor,” he adds.

“I am.”

“And that would have put you in an awkward position.”

“It would have.”

A smile twists onto his lips, “As awkward as being a human tee-pee?”

At that, she rolls her eyes and sighs. “Shut up,” she murmurs as she takes a sip of the coffee.

“You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she insists, almost believing herself.

“Oh, so it doesn’t have anything to do with that paper you’re choking the life out of?”

“What?” She blinks as she looks at him, and then slowly, she looks down at her hand, realizing that she’s still holding onto the brochure for the amusement park that Henry handed her on the stairs. “Oh.”

Tentatively, he reaches for it, pulling the glossy paper through her fingers and her grip loosens to allow it. She watches as he unfolds the brochure, looking down at the cover before his eyes dart quickly back up at her and then back down to the cover. “This… is what you’re upset about?” He blinks. “Not a fan of the new giraffe.” She doesn’t smile and he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… fine,” she tells him as she watches him open the brochure, watching a faint smile form on his lips—and once more she allows herself to daydream about what it could be like in another life. “I’m not… upset about that,” she hears herself say. “Henry and I had this idea that we could do something special for Roland’s birthday.”

“And this is… the something special?”

She takes a breath. “I thought we could do…” Her voice trails off. “I don’t actually know what I thought, but I thought it’d be nice for the four of us to do something. But Henry found this brochure and…” She shrugs and looks away from him, focusing for a moment on the stage. A small smile pulls at the corners of her mouth as she watches Henry help Roland adjust his costume and says something to make him laugh. “…and he thought this could be the something special.”

“You know, you two don’t have to do anything special for Roland’s birthday. I just mean…”

“Robin,” she interjects, turning to face him. “We want to. You and Roland have been such good friends to us and…” She shrugs. “It’d be fun.”

She’s not quite sure why she said it—not quite sure why she didn’t take the out he was so obviously giving her; but she finds herself holding her breath as Robin looks back to the brochure and flips the page, and she’s not entirely sure what she wants his response to be.

“Yeah,” tells her with a nod. “It would be fun.” Her immediate response is to smile as Robin’s smile broadens as he looks back to her. “I don’t actually remember the last time Roland and I left Storybrooke…”

“Oh,” she murmurs as a pang of guilt pinches at her core—that’s because they’ve never left and it was virtually impossible for them to do so. She takes a breath and puts on a smile. “Well, then I think we have to,” she manages to say, not entirely sure how she’s going to make the impossible possible and she’s not entirely sure she won’t be stricken with some malady that ruins the plan—but for that afternoon, she decides to let herself get lost in the daydream.

_____

She waits anxiously in the foyer, watching as Robin’s truck parks in front of her house, and she cranes her neck to see over the hedges—and she can’t help but smile as Robin lifts Roland down, swinging him around before setting him down and reaching for their bags. She swallows hard as her smile fades at the realization that it’s too late to back out now. She wrings her fingers in her hands and watches as they approach, watching as Roland hops up the stairs as Robin cradles two coffees.

That morning, she considered backing out—a cough or perhaps a headache, some sort of malady that would be just enough to have to cancel. But every time she dared to reach for the phone, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, and a little voice in the back of her head told her to have a little faith, that it would all work out—and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shut it up and she couldn’t bring herself to tell yet another lie, especially not one that would only lead to a little boy’s disappointment.

Robin knocked lightly at the door and her heart fluttered with nervousness and odd sense of calmness that she felt whenever he was nearby—and then a slight grin pulled onto her lips as she opened the door to the father and son wearing matching smiles.

“We were up before the sun!” Roland exclaims as the door opens, and she laughs a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever been up this early.”

“Well, I hope it’ll be worth it,” Regina says, doing her best to hide her nerves.

“Coffee will help,” Robin tells her, offering a wink as he extend a large Styrofoam cup. “We made a pit-stop at Granny’s.”

“I didn’t realize she was open this early…”

“Oh, she’s not,” Robin laughs.

“She made me a special sandwich because it’s my birthday!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Roland nods, and for a brief moment, Regina’s able to forget her nerves. “So, how does it feel to be six.”

Roland brow’s furrows as he considers the question. “A lot like five, actually.”

“Oh,” Regina laughs. “I guess that… makes sense. You’ve only been six for a few hours.”

“Yeah,” Roland nods as he glances toward the stairs, obviously in search of Henry. “I might feel differently later.”

“Perhaps,” Regina agrees, as her eyes follow his gaze. “You know, Henry’s just getting his shoes on in his room. You should go up and see if he’s ready.” She can’t help but laugh as Roland darts toward the stairs, obviously not needing any convincing—and the moment faded away and her stomach fluttered as she looked back to Robin. “Oh, let me take that,” she murmurs as she shifts the coffee into her other hand and reaches for Roland’s bag, her heart warming at the realization that the little handle at the top was shaped like Hulk’s fist and she remembered the way Robin had sighed as he told her how long it had taken Roland pick out that particular backpack, and how he’d analyzed every last detail of every bag before finally settling on the green and purple Hulk bag—and then becoming obsessed with it, and wanting to take it everywhere.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Um, no, I think I’ve got everything,” she says, glancing toward the stairs. “I was just packing up some snacks for the…”

“Snacks?” Henry asks with wide eyes as Roland hands him one half of the sandwich. “What kind of snacks?”

“Yeah,” Roland echoes with a full mouth. “What kind of snacks?”

“Just some granola bars and…”

“Ooooh,” Roland murmurs, his eyes widening. “I _love_ granola bars.”

Regina can’t help but laugh—mostly because it’s true. In the time that she’s known Robin and his son, she’s never known Roland to turn down a baked good—even  a baked good that borderlines on healthy. Her heart warms as his smile brightens in anticipation, and for a brief moment, she’s a little taken aback by the way that smile warms her heart and settles her nerves—as if to remind her that whatever risk she’s about to take is worthwhile.

He’s practically bouncing as he skips down a few stairs, as Henry pulls the brochure for the zoo and amusement park from his pocket—and she realizes the boys have stopped mid-way on the stairs and have struck up a conversation about the animals they’ll be seeing that afternoon. She glances over at Robin, who’s grinning softly at the exchange.

“So, they really have tigers?” Roland asks.

“Yeah,” Henry nods. “Well, it says they do in here.”

“Orange ones?”

“Yup,” Henry confirms.

“Do you think we’ll get to feed them?”

Robin laughs out and she feels her own laugh bubbling her chest as she bites down on her bottom lip. “Oh,” Henry murmurs. “No, probably not,” Henry says in a gentle tone. “I mean, we’re probably what they want to eat, so it’s probably against the rules. You know, for our own safety.”

“Oh…” Roland murmurs, as his grin fades away. “I was really looking forward to that.”

“But there are other animals we can probably feed,” Henry says, as he nudges Roland shoulder.”They have llamas,” Henry murmurs, looking down at the brochure. “I bet we could feed those, and I bet their noses tickle.”

At that, Roland perks up. “You think so?”

“I mean, look.” Regina feels her heart swell as Henry lowers the brochure to Roland. “Those look like tickly noses to me, don’t you think so?”

“Definitely!” Roland agrees with an overly emphatic not. “They _definitely_ look like they tickle.”

“I bet we’ll also get to hold lizards. And the rollercoaster looks _really_ cool.”

“And they have elephant ears!”

Again Robin laughs out, stepping up onto the bottom stairs and sweeping Roland up and off of the stair, and swinging him around into the foyer. Henry skips down the stairs and joins them—and she can’t help the smile that tugs onto her lips or the tears that begin to well as she watches Robin put his arm around Henry’s shoulders and tussel his hair as offers him a quick and subtle wink.

“Uh, why don’t you guys go and put the bags in the car,” Regina says, as she sniffs back her tears. “And I’ll finish packing up those snacks.”

Roland and Henry grab the bags, lugging them toward the door and Robin follows her into the kitchen, helping her to pack up the granola bars and some other things, all the while teasing her about the amount of food she was bringing to stave them over on a four-hour trip. She nodded and rolled her eyes, and made a quip or two, not able to admit the real reason she’s spent the night baking granola bars and prepping snack bags was because it was something she could actually control—unlike getting two cursed people across the town line…

She’d spent days in her vault, reading dusty leather-bound books that she hadn’t touched in years, considering spells and potions, hexes and counter-spells, in search of something that would allow Robin and Roland to cross the town line unharmed. And when she finally thought she actually found something that could possible work, her excitement was short-lived upon the realization that she had no way of testing it to be sure. It occurred to her that she could just snag some poor unfortunate Storybrooke resident and toss them over the line, then wipe their memory clean, but that wouldn’t have actually worked because the spell itself contained a rather tricky component, requiring something that couldn’t be tested or measured, and certainly couldn’t be used on just anyone. The spell required three very specific elements which worked as a catalyst for the rest—it required mutual feelings trust, loyalty and love. So while she painstakingly made sure the potion was correctly prepared, that the ingredients were measured exactly and applied perfectly, she couldn’t guarantee the rest of it because while the feelings were there on her end—though she could barely admit that to even herself—she couldn’t be sure about Robin or Roland.

The evening after she prepared the potion, she set her plan into motion and felt slight pangs of guilt for even the most innocent of deceptions. She’d invited them over and set up little craft table in the living room and printed out instructions to make friendship bracelets, then laid out the supplies—all of which had been soaked in the potion she’d created. Henry and Roland had been thrilled about the brightly colored beads and strips of ribbon and leather—and to her relief, Robin sat down at the table with them and showed them how to make slip knots so the bracelets could be easily taken off and put back on. She’d sat down, too, and she had to remind herself to stay calm and not let her nerves show as she reached for a few strips of leather. She braided the three strips together, then made the knot and took a breath as she extended it to Robin, and she’d breathed sigh of relief as he accepted it, sliding it onto his wrist and teasing that she’d picked the perfect color palate of gray, brown and green for him—an obvious sigh of true friendship.

When the snacks are packed, Robin takes the bag from the counter and hands her her coffee, offering an excited grin as they pass through the house and join the boys in the car. She takes a deep breath as she catches a glimpse of Robin’s wrist, feeling only minutely better at the sight of the bracelet as she turns the key in the ignition.

The knot in her stomach tightens, and she’s grateful when Robin turns and strikes up a conversation with the boys, not noticing her obvious discomfort. As they turn down Main Street Robin asks the boys what the first thing they’ll want to do when they get to the amusement park and zoo, and she manages a smile when Roland very candidly shares that he’ll probably want to go to the bathroom.

“You know,” Robin begins, as he turns himself around in the passenger seat, and looks out at the open road ahead of them, the road that leads from Storybrooke into the real world. “I don’t actually remember the last time I went somewhere outside of Storybrooke.”

“Oh, really?” She asks, trying to sound surprised.

“Yeah,” he says in a reflective voice. “It’s funny. I actually _can’t_ remember.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs with a short nod. “That is.”

Her heart pounds rapidly and the beat echoes in her ears, and she quickly glances at Roland through the rearview mirror. He, too, is wearing the bracelet that Henry gave him, and as they near the town line, she holds her breath and hopes that it’s enough. Her finger tighten on the steering wheel and it takes everything in her not to close her eyes and brace herself for what she fears will be the inevitable—and then, almost suddenly, they’re across the line and outside of Storybrooke.

Henry and Roland laugh in the back seat, and from the corner of her eye, she can see Robin turning his head to smile back at them—and then, her hands relax as relief washes over her. And in her relief, she doesn’t even have time to process what Robin and Roland being able to cross the town line with her and Henry actually meant for the four of them.

_____

“You know,” Robin begins as he leans against an iron fence, watching as Roland and Henry climb into the first car of a mini-roller coaster. “You really didn’t have to do this.” He grins as she looks back at him. “I mean, I’m _glad_ you did because my son is having an _incredible_ day, but…”

“I _wanted_ to.”

“I know,” he nods. “But I really don’t know how to thank you for this one—or to repay you.”

“You don’t need to,” Regina says quickly, as she leans forward on the fence beside him. “Like I said, I wanted to do this for him.” She shrugs, thinking back to Henry’s birthday at Coney Island and how good it felt to hear him laugh that day, how her heart had swelled as his eyes grew wide with excitement as she handed him a watermelon slush drink and a roll of tickets to play more games, and how good that feeling felt. “I… might be the sort of person who buys her way into the hearts of small children she feels affection toward.”

Robin laughs and shakes his head, “You’re _not_ , actually.” Her eyebrow arches, somewhat taken aback by insistence in his voice. “You show it in a lot of ways—your generosity is just among the ways.”

She blinks, and for a moment, she’s not sure what it say because no one—with the exception of Henry whose outlook on the world was from a child’s view—had ever accepted her intentions without looking for some sort of ulterior motive. As a girl, her generosity was viewed as foolish, something that would land her into trouble, and as Queen it was altogether ignored—unless of course, it was bestowed onto her, and then, there was always a catch. In her later, darker years, she’d accepted that generosity was never without motive—and the by the time she’d arrived in Storybrooke, it scarcely mattered because nothing lasted and no one ever remembered.

“You… look surprised by that.”

“I am,” she admits quietly. “That’s not usually a word people use to describe me.”

“No?” He laughs. “Well, those people don’t know you very well then.” A small smile pulls onto her lips and she looks back at the ride, watching as the car pulls up the first incline. “This is the first birthday my son has had that wasn’t bittersweet,” he tells her. “Sometimes they’ve been more bitter than sweet, and that’s mostly my doing, but…”

“That’s understandable.”

“Maybe,” Robin says with a sigh, as they both turn to face each other. “But he doesn’t remember Marian. He didn’t know her, yet he lives with this cloud over him, he lives knowing that because he’s here, his mother isn’t—and that cloud is there because of me and the way I’ve handled things.”

“Robin, you’re grieving. You miss…”

“I know, I know,” he cuts in, shaking his head and laughing uncomfortably. “I handled it the way I handled it, and I can’t change any of that, just like I can’t change that she died giving birth. My son would have known that, one way or the other, eventually.” He pauses for a moment, as the sound of children laughing and screaming as the rollercoaster drops over the top of the incline as he smiles. “On his last birthday he _apologized_ to me. He apologized because he was here, and Marian wasn’t, and he knows that hurts me. My five-year old son felt his existence was something that need to be apologized for.”

“Oh, Robin,” she murmurs, not really knowing what to say, and feeling a slight pang of guilt at the sudden realization that all of those sad memories he holds, are memories he holds because of her and the curse. “I’m sorry.”

“I… didn’t mean for this conversation to go this way…”

“It’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “All I meant to say was this is the first birthday my son hasn’t been overshadowed, and that’s been all about him, celebrating him, doing the things that make him happy, being with people who make him happy—and I don’t think you realize how much that means to me.”

She feels a lump rising at the back of her throat, and she’s not sure what to say and she’s not sure how to process the rush of emotion she feels. So reaches for his hand, sliding hers over his and wrapping her fingers around his wrist as her thumb rubs gently—and when she looks back to the ride, she can see a hint of a smile on his lips as he, too, turns his attention back to their sons.

The rest of the day takes a happier note—the boys continue to ride rides, and they visit the indoor butterfly garden and the reptile house—and Roland giggles as one of the workers sets a little green lizard into his hands, and its tail swishes and tickles his palm. When noon rolls around, Regina claims a little table in front of the enclosure where the tigers are kept and Robin takes the boys to one of the food stands—and she sighs a little when they returns with a tray full of chili dogs, cheese fries, and sodas—and she can’t help but notice the way the little smiles Henry and Roland exchange as they rush to one end of the table so that their parents have to sit beside one another.

 “Can we go on more rides now?” Roland asks as he chews his last fry and licks his cheese-covered fingers. “Please?”

“How about something… slow?” Robin laughs as he extends a napkin to his son, who looks at it like he doesn’t know what it is or what it’s used for. “Take a few minutes to digest.”

“I’m not sure what we just ate _can_ be digested,” Regina says, earning an eye roll from all three of them.

“The tigers are out at the other end,” Henry says, standing up and craning his neck to get a better look at the giant cats. “We could look at those for awhile.”

And before either Robin or Regina can respond, the boys are running to the opposite end of the enclosure. They laugh as they gather up the remnants of their lunches, and throw them away, and Robin laughs as Regina pulls hand-sanitizer from her purse and squeezes some into her hand—and then squeezes some into his hands. Shivering, she rubs her hands together, spreading the cool hand sanitizer over the back of her hand and into her palm—and when she looks up, Robin is grinning at her. She tips her head as he reaches for her hand, rubbing it between his to warm her up—and when one hand falls away, the other forms around hers and she finds it impossible to pull away.

They hold hands as they watch the Tigers lounging on a grassy bank, and then as they walk to the lions in the next enclosure, Robin gives her hand a little squeeze. Roland and Henry are oblivious, giggling together about the lion’s fuzzy main, commenting about how it would make a funny winter hat, and Robin laughs, informing them all that he’s always liked lions—and then they all laugh when Roland suggests one a as pet.

“Perhaps a _smaller_ cat would be a better idea,” Robin says as Roland sighs and rolls his eyes, muttering something about how cool it would be to have a lion, and Henry giggles and tells him they could name the cat Simba as they make their way to the next enclosure.

The November wind picks up, sending a shiver down her spine as the boys get into line for the next ride, and Robin tugs her closer as they wait at the fence, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with their fingers laced together—and then, as the boys climb onto the ride, Robin lets go and his arm slides around her waist, and almost instinctively, she steps just a little closer, pressing her cheek into the warm fabric of his coat as they watch the boys laugh, completely unaffected by the cool air.

They stay that way until the boys rejoin them, reporting that they’re running low on tickets—and Robin swoops in for the rescue. She leads the boys over to some of the games while Robin waits in the ticket line—and she makes an off-handed comment about the cute stuffed fox that’s displayed as the biggest prize for the ring toss game.

 “You should try to win it,” Henry says as he glances at Roland. “It is cute.”

“Yeah, really cute,” Roland agrees. “You should get it!”

“Ring-tossing isn’t exactly in my skill set.”

“Maybe it’s in Robin’s,” Henry says as Roland grins and nods. “Maybe _he_ could win it _for you_.”

“Maybe I could win what?” Robin asks, jogging back up to them with two long strips of orange tickets in hand as he glances between them all. “You know I love a good challenge.”

Regina rolls her eyes as Robin divides the tickets between the boys. “Nothing.”

“My mom like that fox,” Henry tells him, pointing in the direction of the ring toss. “But she doesn’t think she can win it on her own.”

“You should try to win it for her, Dad!”

Robin turns back to her and she watches as a little grin edges onto his lips and his blue eyes shimmer at the prospect. “You want the fox, huh?”

“No, I just… thought he was cute,” she tells him with a shrug. “He looks soft.”

“So you want the fox.”

“I think she does,” Henry murmurs.

“I don’t. I just think it’s a cute stuffed animal.”

“And if I won it for you, you’d…”

“Still think that it’s a child’s toy.”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Robin says, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out another stand of tickets. “It’ll be fun, and I’d hate for these to go to waste.”

“You could win something for your son,” Regina counters, her eyebrow arching up in protest. “It is his birthday after all.”

“It is his birthday,” Robin nods, as he looks to Roland. “And his smile tells me he wants you to have that fox…”

“I do,” Roland interjects as he rubs his hands together in anticipation.

Regina looks between the three of them—and for the life of her, she can’t fathom how this has turned into some sort of competition—a competition that she’s very clearly losing. “Fine,” she sighs as her eyes roll. “But this _isn’t_ necessary.”

“While you guys do that,” Henry says as they take a step forward. “Roland and I are going to go wait in line for the bumper cars.”

“The bumper cars?” Roland asks, turning toward him as his nose scrunches. “But I want to watch…”

“Roland…”Henry cuts in. “ _Remember_ how much _you wanted_ to go on the bumper cars?

Regina watches as Henry shoots Roland a look, and Roland eyes widen with some sort of realization. “Ooh,” he breathes out. “I _forgot_ how much I wanted to do that!”

Regina’s eyebrow arches again and Robin chuckles softly as Henry takes Roland’s hand and leads him to the bumper car line just a few yards away from them; and then, Robin turns to her, grinning as he holds up the tickets. “So,” he begins. “Are you ready to go and win a fox?”

She just laughs and follows him, looking behind herself every now and then, and watching the boys standing in line, waiting for their turn on the bumper cars—and once more, she finds it all too easy to forget that all of this is nothing more than a façade.

_____

When the sun sets, overhead lights turn on. Just about every ride has bright, flashing lights and Christmas-style lights hang above all of the games. They eat dinner—this time Italian sausage and curly fries—on a picnic table, and watch the glittering lights as Roland chatters on and on about how this has been his favorite birthday. And, she feels an odd mix of emotion, not really sure how she feels about any of it. On one hand, she’s glad that Roland enjoyed his birthday and that she was able to be a part of it, but on the other hand, she can’t help but feel guilty over the memories she’s given him—that in quest for revenge on one person, she took away the happy ending of the innocent little boy she’s come to care so much about.

“You know,” Robin begins as he takes a sip of his soda. “I saw a cupcake stand a little ways back.”

“Really?” Roland asks, suddenly perking up.

“I didn’t see that,” Henry adds, looking between them.

“And this wouldn’t really be a birthday without some kind of cake, would it?”

“Oh,” Regina murmurs as grin tugs onto her lips. “That’s a good point.”

“It _is_ a good point,” Henry agrees.

“So, what do you say we walk over and get a few?”

“Yeah!” The boys both exclaim as Robin stands up and lifts Roland onto his shoulders—and reminds her not to forget her stuffed fox.

Regina grins as she tucks the little fox beneath her arm and she takes Henry’s hand, pulling him into her side as she stretches an arm around his shoulders and bends to drop a quick kiss atop his head. Her heart warms as he presses himself into her side as they walk together, and once more, her guilt fades away.

While Robin gets into the cupcake line, Regina settles on the bench with the boys—who suddenly seem more docile than they were just a few minutes before. Henry leans against her, and to her surprise, Roland cuddles into her other side—and once more, her heart swells as she feels a rush of emotion. The three of them sit quietly together, and Regina stokes her fingers over their arms. Henry asks if they can watch a movie when they get back to the hotel, and Roland agrees that’s something he’d like to do—and when Regina looks up, Robin is standing only a few yards away, watching her with a look that she can’t quite place.

When their eyes meet, he smiles and starts forward, joining them on the bench. He scoops up Roland and sits down beside her, holding his son on his lap as he passes out the cupcakes—double chocolate for the boys, apple cinnamon for Regina and cherry vanilla for himself. The boys continue to talk about what movie they want to watch when they get back to the hotel, and every now and then, when she looks up, Robin is yet again looking at her with that indescribable look that she can’t quite figure out.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, as he reaches into his pocket. “I still have four tickets left.”

“Oh,” Regina murmurs. “I think that’s enough for you two to go on one last ride.”

“We could go on the Merry-Go-Round,” Roland says as he lifts his head from Robin’s shoulder and looks to Henry. “We could pretend we’re racing horses!”

“Like in Mary Poppins!”

“Yeah!”

“Well, I think it’s decided then,” Robin laughs as he hands two tickets to Henry, then two to Roland. “The line’s not too long either.” The boys scurry off, running toward the Merry-Go-Round, and Robin settles back beside her. “Thank you—again,” he tells her. “He’s had such a wonderful day.”

“I think we all have,” she replies. “And you don’t have to thank me. He’s a great kid. He deserved a little birthday fun.”

“Well, like I said earlier—this means a lot to us.” She watches a Robin takes a breath. “And not just _this_ , not just today,” he adds. “Having you and Henry in our lives has made our lives infinitely happier.”

“Yeah, I think that’s… mutual.”

Robin just nods and for a moment, he hesitates—and then, he begins to lean in. Every fiber of her being wants to lean in, to press her lips against his, to let her hand slide around the back of his neck, to draw him closer and to hold him, and to finally give in to everything she’s been feeling for the last few months.

But she can’t.

She can’t because it wouldn’t be fair, and suddenly, all of the guilt she’d been keep at bay comes rushing forward, flooding her senses and the little voice inside of her head screams at her for messing this up before it ever truly began.

“Robin,” she murmurs as his lips brush over hers. “Robin, I…” Her voice halts as his finger tips graze lightly against her jaw, and for a moment, all she can think about is how good that kiss would feel—and then she realizes how selfish it would be to allow it to happen, to allow him believe there could be something between them, to allow him to think they might have a future together, to allow him to think that anything in their lives is anything more than pretense. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmurs as she pulls herself back, sliding away from him and pinching her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything and when she opens her eyes, he’s staring past her in complete disbelief. He doesn’t look angry, but he does look disappointed and confused, and she reminds herself that he’s cursed, that his decisions aren’t truly his own, that everything he thinks he knows about his own life is an illusion and it’s illusion that she created. And she reminds herself that the person he wanted to kiss isn’t actually there, that the person he wanted to kiss doesn’t really exist.

“I… I don’t understand,” he murmurs. “I thought…”

“I’m sorry.”

“For weeks… for months… I thought…”

“I’m sorry, Robin,” she interjects in a shaky voice. “I wanted…” And then she stops, and reminds herself that what she wants doesn’t really matter. “It’s not you…”

“Please, don’t do that. Don’t give me _that_ line.”

“But it’s true.”

Sitting back against the bench, he takes a deep breath and tips back his head, letting his eyes close for a moment. “I… I’m in love with you, Regina,” he says plainly. “I am head over heels in love with you. I’m crazy about your kid, and I…” He sighs. “And I… I thought…” Opening his eyes, he turns and looks at her. “Did I really misread it all?”

“It’s… complicated,” she murmurs back. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he breathes out as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “I am.”

“Robin…”

“You were perfectly clear at the start. You didn’t want to date someone. You weren’t looking for a relationship. You told me that, but I…”

“Robin, this isn’t…”

“I didn’t listen. I thought your feelings could change. I thought… they were changing.”

Tears well in her eyes, and she wants desperately to tell him that they did change, that she feels the same way that he does. She wants to tell him that she’s fallen in love—and though she never expected that to happen, she’s so glad that it did. But she doesn’t because she understands that they’re not a level playing field, and if he knew the truth, if he knew who and what she was, he wouldn’t feel the way that he does now. He couldn’t possibly.  


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving, and Robin and Regina deal with their not-kiss.

Taking a breath, Regina knots her robe and reaches for a towel, staring blankly into the mirror as she towel-dries her hair. It was just after five in the morning, and she was still undecided about whether or not she’d go into her office and check a few quick tasks off of her to-do list. And while she knew that was the practical and responsible thing to do, Henry had the day off from school and she couldn’t help but be tempted by the idea of a lazy morning with him. She continued her debate has she ran a smoothing solution through her hair, even though she knew in her heart of hearts her mind was already made up.  

Stepping back into her bedroom, she was startled by the overhead light, flinching at the brightness before her eyes settled on Henry, sitting with his legs folded beneath him at the foot of her bed.

“Sorry, to scare you,” he murmurs with a guilty little grin. “I heard the shower and I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, as she crosses the room to sit beside him. “What’s the matter?”

Henry just shrugged his shoulders and sighed—and he didn’t need to do more than that for her to understand what he wasn’t telling her.

Since that almost perfect Saturday they spent with Robin and Roland at the amusement park and zoo in York, things had been tense. She and Robin tried to make light of things, tried to cut down on the tension and the awkwardness, and they tried to pretend that nothing had changed for the benefit of the boys, but of course, they’d picked up on it nearly as soon as they returned to them on the bench. Robin had swung Roland up onto his shoulders and she’d taken Henry by the hand and they jumped almost immediately into a conversation about rides and animals—and brief moments, it did feel normal. But as soon as the boys’ voices would stop, the silence settled in, practically screaming until either Henry or Roland filled the void with another story or antidote and by the time they’d reached her car, there was an uncomfortable silence. When they’d gotten back to the hotel and the boys had changed into their pajamas and stretched out on the beds to watch a movie, Robin had gone out to the balcony, while she’d busied herself with making sure their things were packed—and every now and then, Roland and Henry would exchange puzzled glances as they looked between their parents, who pretended not to see their confusion.

“I miss Robin and Roland,” he admits quietly. “It’s been _days_ since we’ve seen them.”

“I know…”

“Did something happen?”

She blinks and sighs as her arm wraps around his shoulders, and she’s still not sure how to answer that question—and she’s still not entirely sure where she and Robin stand.

_“Hey…” she murmured as she stepped out onto the balcony, shivering as she wrapped her arms around herself as the cool November air surrounded her._

_“You should go back in,” Robin murmured, turning his head to look at her. “It’s freezing.”_

_“I’m fine,” she replied as her ran her hands over her arms. “I just… thought maybe we should… talk.”_

_“At least get a coat first,” he’d sighed as he turned—and when she didn’t move, he took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “So, what is it that you want to talk about?”_

_“Robin…”she murmured with an incredulous look—there was only one thing to talk about._

_“What?” He blinked. “I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going through your head. If one thing was made perfectly clear to me tonight, it’s that I have no idea how to read you.”_

_She wasn’t sure how to respond to that because one of the things that made it so easy to be in his company was that he could read her, that they fit so well together, that there was a connection between them that she couldn’t quite explain—but then, she had to remind herself, all of that was based on a lie._

_“I’m sorry,” he’d said to fill the silence. “That… probably wasn’t fair.”_

_“It was,” she’d replied in a small voice. And then he’d looked at her with those piercing blue eyes that always managed to see through her—and she wondered what he now saw. “You didn’t misread anything, though. I meant what I said earlier—this isn’t about you, it’s about me.”_

_“Regina, that doesn’t make sense.”_

_“It does, though—or it would if you knew the whole story.”_

_“Then enlighten me.”_

_“I… can’t.”_

_“Why?” He demanded as he took a step toward her. “I want to understand—because right now, I don’t. I don’t understand at all. I don’t understand how we went from… where we were just a few hours ago to here.” He blinked and once more, her words failed her—they failed her because the only thing she could say was the truth and she knew the truth wasn’t just unbelievable, it would only succeed in driving the wedge deeper. For years, she’d been so careful and refused to let anyone get too close because the pain of being alone was far better than the pain of being rejected—at least her loneliness had been a choice. “Regina, you need to help me to understand this…”_

_“I can’t…”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because I…” she sighed and pressed her eyes closed and willed her tears not to fall. “Because as angry and hurt as you are right now, you don’t hate me.”_

_“What?”_

_“I couldn’t stand that…”_

_“Why do you think I’d hate you?”_

_She could only shrug her shoulders. “Just a well-informed hunch…”_

_“Regina, that’s… crazy.”_

_“You have no idea how accurate that is.”_

_“Regina!”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“Is it Graham?”_

_“What?” She asked as her eyes flew open. “No…”_

_“Because…”_

_“No,” she’s quick to say. “It’s not about him.”_

_“Someone else?”_

_“No,” she says again. “It’s just… me.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not the person I let you believe I am.”_

_“And who do you think I think you are?”_

_“A small town mayor who adopted a little boy out of the goodness of her heart, and…”_

_“Regina, that is who you are!”_

_“No, it’s… it’s only a part. A small part. The good part.”_

_“You’re not making any sense…”_

_“I know,” she says with a deflated sigh. “I know…”_

Taking a breath, Henry looked up at her with a furrowed brow and sad eyes. She watches as he hesitated chewing at his bottom lip as he fumbled with his fingers. “Did I… do something?”

“What?”

“Did I make them mad or…”

“No,” she cuts in quickly as she feels a stabbing of guilt at her core as she presses a reassuring kiss to the top of Henry’s head. “Robin and I just need… a little space to figure things out.”

“Space?”

“Yeah…”

“Space isn’t a good thing.”

“That’s… not always true.”

“My foster mom’s sister always said she needed space when she broke up with whatever boyfriend she had that week.” He sighs. “Space was never good.”

Once more, she’s at a loss for words. There’s a hollow feeling in her chest and she’s tired. She hasn’t slept in days—and it’s more than just the situation with Robin. As much as that hurts, she knows what’s coming—in a few months, his memories will start to fade and by summer, they’ll be gone completely; and to him, she’ll never have been a part of his life. But with Henry, she doesn’t have that same luxury. There won’t be a reset. His memories won’t fade away. And the real pain and loss he feels isn’t temporary.

And that points to the bigger problem of the curse and how to break it.

The curse itself had been uncharted territory, something that no one had ever done before her; and because of that, there were no clear rules for breaking it—the only thing she understands about it is that Henry’s birthmother should play a part, that it’s her destiny to break the curse. But that would involve bringing her to Strorybrooke, inviting her into Henry’s life and potentially upset the stability he’s starting to feel, and she wonders if she’d be doing more harm than good; and she wonders if there’s possibly another way—and she hopes that there is.

“I guess we’ll just have to… wait and see.”

“Yeah…” Henry sighs as he nods and turns to look at her. “Are you going to work today?”

“I… don’t know.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“No?”

“No,” he says, as a small smile pulls onto his lips. “I think we should read Harry Potter.”

“Of course you do,” she says with a little laugh.

“We’re at a really good part…”

“We are...” She agrees as she gets up off the bed and offers him her hand, grinning as he takes it. “So, what do you say we do some reading and then have breakfast at Granny’s.”

“Waffles?”

“If you want…”

Henry leads her out of her room and down the hall to his, and they cuddle up together on his bed. Regina reaches for the copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ that sits on his nightstand, opening it up to the bookmarked page that begins the tenth chapter. She reads about the Halloween feast—from the magical decorations to the spirited feelings to Professor Quill’s warning, and when she glances down at Henry, his hazel eyes are sparkling and she can practically see him imagining each and every detail.

“It’d be _so cool_ if magic like that _actually_ existed,” he’d murmured as she paused to turn the page.

“Yeah?” She’s asked as her breath caught in her chest, fluttering and aching as Henry looked up at her.

“Yeah,” he’d said with a nod before cuddling closer. “It would be.” And that innocent and unknowing comment gives her just the smallest shred of hope.

______

She and Henry were seated in a booth by the window, and there was a plate of waffles between them. They’d ordered all sorts of toppings as sides—and though she was content with just the cinnamon apple sauce, she couldn’t help but grin as Henry experimented. He mixed fruits and syrups, his pallet undeterred by switching between combinations like maple syrup and blueberry glaze or whipped cream and sliced peaches.

It was just after eight and despite the below-freezing temperature, it was a bright and sunny day-before-thanksgiving. Eventually, the conversation shifted from waffles and Harry Potter to that afternoon’s elementary school pageant—and though Henry told her that he just wanted to get it over with, every time he talked about it his eyes sparkled with excitement and he fidgeted with anticipation.

“Dining alone?” Ruby asked as she delivered the bell.

“I’m not sure that I’d classify breakfast with my son as dining alone.”

“Oh, I just meant that you’re Locksley-less today. For the past few months, it’s always been the four of you.”

Regina let out a short breath as Henry’s smile faded at the reminder and she felt a familiar knot forming in her stomach as a tight smile pulled onto her lips. “Well, today it’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Ruby murmured as Granny looked up from the counter. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to…”

“Its fine,” Regina interjects as she takes the check from the waitress. “Really. Don’t worry about it.” She takes a breath as she slides from the booth and looks toward the counter—and her stomach drops when she sees Graham sitting at the counter with his eyebrow arched and a smug, satisfied smile stretched across his face.

“I’m going to use the bathroom before we go,” Henry murmurs as he slips past her, and she sighs and nods as she watches him walk toward the back of the diner as she moves toward the counter to pay.

“So, the good and noble Robin Locksley finally got tired of you.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Regina,” Graham says as he leans beside her. “You and I both know that was doomed from the start.”

“You don’t know anything…”

“This little game you’re playing is nothing more than a farce.”

“My life is…” she sighs, unable to push out that last word because deep down, she knows that he’s right. Her life is a farce, and no matter how often she denies it, it doesn’t make it any less true. “…none of your business.”

“It used to be.”

“But it’s not anymore.”

“Come on, Regina,” he says, reaching out and running his fingers over the back of her hand. “You knew this would happen. Why don’t you stop by tonight… around ten… I’ll take your mind off of it.”

She blinks as she finally looks at him. “I don’t think so. I’m not going to leave my son for…”

“Then I’ll come to you.”

“No.”

“How long has it been?”

“I don’t know,” she retorts. “I haven’t been counting.”

“You miss me. You miss _us_. Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit…”

“Regina, come on. You know you want me to come over tonight,” Graham murmurs in a low voice.

She feels heat rising at the back of her neck and her anger bubbling just beneath the surface, and she wants nothing more than to smack him away, but she doesn’t want to make a scene—especially not one that Henry might see—so instead she slowly withdraws her hand.

“No, I _don’t_ want you to.”

“Regina. You and I both know you’re going to change your mind. You always do, so why put up such a protest?”

“I don’t believe you understand the meaning of the word ‘no,’ Sheriff.” Regina turns to see Robin standing behind her. Roland is standing beside him, loosely holding onto his hand and wearing his corn stalk costume, unaware of the tension between the two men. Swallowing hard, she looks between Robin and Graham, watching how intensely Robin watches him—and then slowly, Graham’s eyes roll. “Regina’s made herself perfectly clear, and I’m no expert of the law, but your persistence is sounding an awful lot like harassment.”

Regina swallows as she looks between them and then Graham’s hand withdraws from her and he straightens. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“I won’t…” And then he turns away from her and she watches him go. “Thank you for that,” she murmurs awkwardly as her attention shifts back to Robin. “You didn’t have to…”

“Yes I did,” Robin interjects as a slow and sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, “Because no matter what happened—or didn’t happen—between us, I’ll always consider you a friend.”

“He misses you,” Roland confesses as he looks up at her, and she feels her heart swell with a mix of emotions that she can’t quite describe. “He said so this morning.”

“Roland…”

“You _did_ say that, though,” the little boy says, looking up at his father as he sighs. “When my kernel fell off my costume, you said that Regina would know how to fix it and you missed her.”

“Roland, you weren’t supposed to be eavesdropping.”

Shifting awkwardly, Regina looks down at Robin’s son and does her best to change the topic. “A kernel came off your costume?”

Roland nods as he pulls off a piece and holding up the large yellow kernel that’s back is covered in duct tape. “Daddy said I should just be popped corn.”

She can’t help but laugh as she takes the kernel from Roland and twirls her fingers around the thread that had once held it to his costume. “Well, I don’t think pilgrims had popcorn with their Thanksgiving dinner, but I can fix this.”

“Can you?”

“Yeah,” she says with a confident nod, reaching for Roland’s hand as she leads him over to the booth she and Henry had just left. “Hold still, okay?” She murmurs as she rummages through her purse, pulling out a needle and thread and looping it through the yellow kernel, then through Roland’s yellow sweatshirt. “Henry had a similar wardrobe malfunction this morning.”

Roland just grins and from the corner of her eye she sees Henry emerge from the bathroom—and Robin immediately hugs him into his side, whispering that he’s missed him and asking how his last math test went. And once more, that indescribable feeling rises in her chest—and it amazes her how easy it is to miss someone whose right in front of her.

“There we go,” she murmurs, tugging on the now-secure kernel. “All set.”

“Thank you,” Roland says too loudly as he leans forward and wraps his arms around her neck. Instinctively, she hugs him back, holding Robin’s son close to her—and when he doesn’t pull away from her, Robin reaches out and gently takes Roland by the hand. “Come on, Roland, we should go.”

And that’s when she notices the tattoo.

Her breath catches and she immediately tenses and the shield-like, blackened tattoo with a lion at the center—the tattoo that’s seared into her memory, the tattoo of the man she’d been told would be her soul mate so many years before in what was another life. Her heart begins to race wildly and no matter what she does, she can’t take her eyes off of it. Swallowing hard, she stands up on shaky legs and when she finally looks to Robin, he’s watching her with narrowed, curious eyes.

“I just, um… I never noticed your tattoo.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, looking down at his arm. “Yeah, I guess it usually gets covered up by my sleeves.”

“Yeah,” she replies in a near whisper as her eyes cast down once more to look at the tattoo, and suddenly so much of their attraction to one another makes sense—the nearly instant comfort between them and the easy rapport, the way they just sort of fit into almost seamlessly into each other’s lives as if they were always meant to be there. “How, um, long have you had it?” She asks, needing something to fill the awkward silence that’s fallen between them.

“For my entire adult life,” Robin muses, glancing quickly at his arm. “Some fathers buy their sons cars for their sixteenth birthdays or maybe give them a savings bond for college. Mine had me branded.”

“Oh,” she laughs, nodding as she once more looks at the tattoo—and noticing the glances the boys exchange. “I guess, um, we should get going. We’re supposed to be at the school soon to help set up.”

“Yeah,” Robin says with a nod. “We were just going to grab a quick bite to eat before heading over.”

“Then, I guess we’ll see you two there.”

“You will,” Robin confirms with a nod and a soft smile as he reaches for Roland’s hand.

As she and Henry make their way to the door, she looks back over her shoulder and smiles as Robin lifts Roland onto one of the stools at the counter and orders his breakfast sandwich with spinach. At that she smiles, thinking back to the sandwich she’d made for him—and then she catches herself off guard when she finds herself thinking that, perhaps, once again fate had intervened and perhaps he could really love her—after all, she’d been told time and time again, that pixie dust never lied.  

_____

The elementary school’s Harvest performance was nothing short of adorable. The kids sang and dance in their homemade costumes, and even she had to give credit to Mary-Margaret Blanchard for putting together such a cute performance. As much as Henry complained about it, she could tell that he was enjoying himself and her heart always warmed when watched him interacting with his classmates, looking so confident and content and so much more secure than he’d been at the start of the year.

Earlier in the fall, they’d purchased their tickets together—and somehow, it still managed to surprise her when Robin sat down beside her just before the curtain rose, awkwardly handing her a Styrofoam cup of complimentary coffee. Her stomach fluttered and he avoided eye contact, both busying themselves in the play’s program and sipping their coffees. But once the curtain lifted and the music began, the tension eased and they had something real to distract them. Between the two of them, they took enough photographs to fill an entire album, and for the duration of the hour-long performance, they managed to forget that things were supposed to feel awkward between them.

When the play ends and each grade trots onto the stage holding hands to take a bow, she feels an emptiness settling in chest, and she knows they’ll be parting ways soon. It takes her aback that he can calm her just by being close to her, and how much it hurts to think she doesn’t know the next time they’ll be this close. Turning her head, she watches as he claps and awkwardly fumbles with his camera trying to get one last picture before the kids leave the stage—and on his wrist, she can’t help but notice the bracelet on his wrist. She smiles faintly at the memory of sliding it onto his wrist, her heart thumping in her chest as she smiled at her small victory—and then, another through occurs to her.

And she suddenly realizes what the first step in breaking the curse will be.

When she’d been working to find a way to get them over the town line, she’d prepared a familiar potion, that would allow her to wipe their minds of them memory if crossing the town line hadn’t worked. She’d poured it into a little a little bottle and no sooner than she corked it, the guilt settled in the pit of her stomach and she knew she couldn’t use it—but she’d kept it anyway.

She wasn’t sure why she kept it, but as she looked over at Robin, she knew exactly why—and she wondered if once more fate wasn’t trying to tell her something.

“Do you, um, want to come over?”

“What?” He asks, turning to her as they both stood up.

“Henry and I made cookie dough, but never actually made the cookies. The boys could bake them and… we could… talk.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Please,” she insists, her voice more urgent than she wanted it to be.

“I told you earlier that I still want to be your friend, but I am going to need a little more time to lick my wounds.”

“I understand,” she says with a short nod. “But…” She takes a deep breath as her stomach churns. “There’s… something I need to tell you and I need to do it before I lose my nerve and if I don’t do it tonight, I don’t know that I ever will.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at her as her eyes plead with him to agree—and then finally, he gave in, nodding as he told her that he would come over, but he wanted to take Roland home to change first. She’d smiled and nodded and told him to meet her at her house by noon, and she’d offered him a odd smile as they parted ways to collect their children.

On the drive home, she was quiet, but Henry didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he chattered on about the play and how it was more fun than he’d expected. He told her a story about when he was in first grade and he’d thrown up just before a little concert, and her heart had broken that he’d been relieved that no one had been there to see it—and that his nervousness got him out of playing _Mary Had a Little Lamb_ on his recorder.

When they got back to the house, Henry was still chattering on; but his rambling had moved onto happier topics as he wondered if they could rent the first Harry Potter movie after they finished the first book. She’d easily agreed as she hung up their coats and he followed her to the kitchen, speculating about what details would be left out and change—and his brow furrowed as she got out the cookie dough from the night before.

“Are we baking?”

“Well, I thought we’d soften up the dough.”

“Why?”

“Robin and Roland are coming over,” she said dismissively, too nervous to get her hopes up. “I thought you and Roland might want to make them and decorate them for tomorrow.”

“Did you guys make up? Are they still coming over for Thanksgiving dinner? Are we going to the community center with them to serve dinner? Or are…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Regina cuts in, laughing a little as she unwraps the dough, “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. There’s, um… just something I need to talk to Robin about.”

“But _talking_ is a _good_ thing.”

“I hope so.”

“It _is_ ,” Henry insists with all the wisdom of an eight-year old.

“We’ll see,” she tells him with a soft grin as her stomach flutters. “Can you get the food coloring from the cabinet?”

Henry nods and hops off the stool, opening the cabinet where the baking supplies are kept. “Should we use Thanksgiving colors?”

“Yeah. Sure,” she tells him with a nod as she collects the rest of the ingredients for her frosting recipe, needing something to do to quell her nerves as she waited for Robin and Roland, and needing something to do to distract her from changing her mind.

_____

The distraction works and before she knows it, the doorbell is ringing and Henry is running excitedly to the door. She follows him, wringing her hands in the kitchen towel and smiling nervous at Robin as Henry invites them. Henry quickly leads Roland to the kitchen, and she leads Robin up to her study.  His brow furrows as they enter and she motions for him to sit the table where a tea set is waiting.

“You… invited me over for tea.”

“Well, kind of,” she murmurs. “It’s… more complicated than that. I just thought the tea might help.”

“It usually does,” he agrees as he sits down and watches her curiously as she tries to figure out how to begin…

_When they opened the door, Henry was exhausted, promptly dropping down his bag and heading upstairs for a nap. She’d kissed the top of his head as he went, setting her own bag beside his as she exhaled a long breath, and tried to wrap her head around the gauntlet of emotions she’d felt in the last twenty four hours._

_She’d been terrified and relieved, content and nervous, and in a moment that should have been all about happiness and love, all she felt was guilt and regret. She knew that she hurt Robin—and in doing so, she was hurting two innocent children. She’d kicked off her shoes and stepped down into the living room, flopping back on the couch as groan escaped her and she wondered how she’d managed to screw things up so badly. And then, as she laid on the couch a leather-bound book caught her eye._

_She hadn’t seen it before, but assumed it was one of Henry’s—he was always bringing home books from the school library and had penchant for leaving things around the house. She traced her fingers over the gold titled that was painted onto the front, then opened the front cover, expecting to see a children’s story, but instead she saw herself._

_Her eyes widened and her stomach dropped and her heart began to beat faster and faster as she turned the pages, her eyes skimming over the story of her life and illustrations of her in Evil Queen’s regalia. She’d slammed the book shut as tears welled in her eyes and she wondered if Henry had seen it. Slowly, she pulled it into her lap and her hands shook as she turned the pages, looking at illustrations of the villages she burned and the lives she mercilessly took—and the life she’d left behind her came flooding back. Hugging the book to her chest, she inhaled a sharp breath as she stood up. Her knees wobbled and her hands shook as she carried the book up to her office and locked it in her desk._

Reaching out, she pour him a cup of the tea—tea laced with a potion that would allow him to remember, that would allow him to remember who he really was and where he came from, that would allow him to see her for who she really was. He watched the way her hands shook and she could feel him looking at her—but despite his gaze, she refused to look at him because as hard as all of this was, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand him looking at her like the monster she was and she didn’t want him to see how terrified she was that he’d no longer be able to love her.

 “I told you that I’m… I’m not who you think I am,” she tells him as she goes to her desk, sitting down and turning the key in the drawer where she’d hidden the book.

“I remember…”

“And I thought, I should explain what I meant by that.” She inhales a deep breath as she withdraws the heavy, leather-bound book. “There’s a good chance you won’t believe me if I tell you, that you’d think I was crazy…”

“Regina, you’re not really making sense here. Why would I think…”

“Just look,” she says as she hands him the book, her stomach dropping as the weight of it transfers from his hands. Her eyes pinch shut as she hears the pages turn—but he says nothing. “Notice anything?”

“The illustrations… they look… like people in this town,” he murmurs, his voice full of confusion. “Was the author or illustrator or whatever from Storybrooke?” She looks up, watching as his brow creases and he turns another page. “Everyone is in here.”

“They are,” she says, pushing herself from the edge of the desk and sitting down beside him. “But the creator of that book wasn’t from Storybrooke.”

“Then, where…”

“Drink the tea,” she says, pushing the cup toward him.

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Regina, this doesn’t…”

“It will.”

“Regina…”

“Drink it,” she urges as he looks up at her—and quickly, she looks away, needing desperately for him to understand because only then will it be possible for him to one day forgive her and one day move past it. “Please.”

“O-okay,” he murmurs. A moment later she hears the tea cup lift from the saucer and she holds her breath, bracing herself for his reaction—but a reaction never comes. Her eyes open and she looks at him, watching as he stares almost blankly down at the book, likely processing what it all means. She tries to say his name, tries to reach out to him, but she finds herself rooted in place, unable to speak or to move; and all she can do is listen as the minutes tick away on the clock and wait helplessly.

“You… cursed us here,” he says finally, in a small and faint voice. “You actually succeeded.”

“It took… years,” she murmurs. “I thought it would…”

“Take away the happy endings,” he supplies. “You thought it would make everyone as miserable as you were.”

“Yes,” she replies in a barely audible voice.

“You’re the Evil Queen and I’m…” He blinks as he finally looks up—and no sooner than he does, she looks away. “And I’m Robin Hood.”

“Yes,” she hears herself say, still rooted her place and waiting for the real reaction.

Downstairs, she can hear Roland and Henry laughing. She hears the over timer sound and she can hear the faint sound of Henry explaining to Roland that they’ll have to be careful when the cookies come out of the oven, that they’re hot and if they touch them, they’ll burn their fingers.

“Did it work?”

“What?”

“Did you get what you wanted?”

She swallows, glancing up at him briefly—she doesn’t know how to answer the question. The curse isn’t at all what she’d anticipated, and though she can barely admit it, she’d been used as Rumplestiltskin’s pawn. The curse was never really about her or what would bring her happiness, it had always been about him. But she’d been led to believe otherwise. In some ways it had worked, but the people she’d wanted to punish had found ways to be happy in their new lives, and for most of the cursed years, she’d been just as lonely and miserable as she’d been before. While those cured years had been absolutely miserable for her, they’d also brought Henry to her and because of that—because of her son—she found herself happier than she’d ever been.

“That’s complicated.”

“And that’s an understatement.” She blinks, once more looking up at him to find him staring out into the room, still grappling with his new found understanding. “Why did you… let me remember?”

“Because,” she murmurs. “You deserved to know.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Doesn’t everyone deserve to know who they are?”

“Yes,” she admits in a hoarse voice.

And then another long silence falls between them. She isn’t sure what she expected from him, but it wasn’t this. She didn’t expect him to be so quiet or reserved, and she didn’t think she’d have to question what he was thinking or feeling, she assumed that would be clear. But she doesn’t dare ask or interrupt the silence; instead, she leaves him with his thoughts and waits.

“I don’t believe this,” he murmurs. “All these years…”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He repeats as his voice piques in surprise. “You’re sorry.”

“Yes…”

“For what?”

Taking a breath, she thinks about the pixie dust and the tattoo and the stupid fairy’s words about ruining the life of her soul mate—words she hadn’t believed until very recently. “I… I ruined your life. I ruined everyone’s lives…”

“You think you ruined my life?” He asks, scoffing at the notion as he stands and paces around the room. “Are you serious, Regina?”

Blinking, she swallows the hardening lump at back of her throat and looks up at him—and finally, their eyes meet. “Aren’t I the monster who ruined your life? Who gave you all of those sad memories, who ripped you away from your home, and stole your son’s future?”

“The woman I know is the farthest thing from a monster,” he says as he takes a few strides toward her and before she can process his words, his hands a sliding across her cheeks and into her hair and he’s drawing her closer to him. His lips touch hers and her arms go up around him, slowly clasping around his shoulders as he pulls her up and into a kiss.

Her head spins until she’s dizzy and breathless—and finally, when he pulls back, a small grin stretches onto his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he murmurs and takes a step back. The back of his hand brushes over her cheek as she tries to catch her breath and find her voice. “So are we still on for dinner tomorrow?”

“What?” she murmurs as she looks up at him. “Dinner?”

“Thanksgiving is tomorrow and we had tentative plans to have dinner.”

“Oh…right…”

“You forgot…”

“No, not, um, just…” Her cheeks flush. “This is a lot to process.”

“You’re telling me,” he replies with a soft grin that somehow manages to set her at ease.

“Are you, um, serving dinner at the community center this year?”

“No,” he says definitively. “I was going but, I want to do something different this year.” A slight chuckle rises into his voice and there’s a glint of something she can’t quite place in his eyes. “I’m tired of doing the same thing over and over again. I think it’s time to do something a little different.” He offers her a wink and leans in, dropping a quick kiss onto her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll bring the turkey.”

She nods and watches him go—and all she can do is stare at the space where he’d just stood as relief washes over her and for the second time that day, she feels hopeful that end of the curse won’t be her downfall.

_____

After Roland and Robin left, she finished helping Henry decorate the cookies they’d made. They had a light dinner of fondue—and she felt so relaxed and at ease, watching Henry dip chunks of bread and various vegetables into the melted cheese with a little stick shaped like a sword. After dinner, they played a few math games with legos to review for an upcoming test, and after his shower, they cuddled up on the couch and finished _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_. She’d carried him up to bed and tucked him in, kissing his forehead before turning on the night light and closing the door—and once more, that feeling of hope began to bubble up within her.

By the next day, the table was set and she and Henry spent the morning preparing food. They’d taken a quick break to go rent the first of the Harry Potter movies, then returned for more cooking. Henry set the table and just after noon, Robin and Roland arrive on the doorstep, carrying a foil-covered turkey in a roasting pan. Roland had a little bag which she soon discovered contained an herb de province olive oil and fresh sprigs of thyme.

“Can I borrow your oven?” He asks, stepping into the house as Roland hands her the bag and Henry invites him upstairs to play _The Legend of Zelda_. She nods as the boys run upstairs, and she follows Robin into the kitchen, listening as he explains to her that as the was cleaning and prepping the turkey, he realized that he could just as easily cook it in her kitchen rather than in his own, quickly confessing that it was just an excuse to see her and that in the hours he spent away from her, he’d missed her.

Her cheeks flush and he grins as he slides rubs the oil over the turkey, then slides it into the oven and sets the timer—and then, they’re left to wait.

“Do you want anything?” She asks. “Wine or… water or…”

“Is it okay that I kissed you?”

“What?” she asks, turning to him with wide eyes, momentarily wondering if he has regrets.

“Yesterday, I kissed you and…”

“I remember…”

“I just did it; I acted on impulse and…”

“I also remember that I kissed you back.”

“Yeah,” he nods as he offers her a sheepish grin. “I remember that part, too.”

“I was glad you did it,” she admits as she reaches for a bottle of wine. “I was a little surprised though.”

“Why?”

She blinks up at him as she reaches for two glasses. “Well. I’m…”

“The Evil Queen.”

“Yeah…”

His eyes narrow as he reaches for the corkscrew and hands it to her, leaning his back onto the counter beside her. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that title and I don’t know that it’s fair.”

“It’s fair,” she says with a slight nod. “I am—or was—exactly that.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs in reply as she pours the wine. “Bold and audacious, sure. A shrewd and calculated ruler, absolutely. But, evil… that just doesn’t add up to me.”

“You don’t know all of my story.”

“I don’t believe anyone knows your whole story,” he replies as she hands him one of the glasses. “And I think it’s likely a lot more complicated than you care to admit.”

“Well, you could read about it in that storybook that’s upstairs. We’ve got a few hours for that turkey to cook.”

“No,” he murmurs, slowly shaking his head. “Not now, at least, and I’d much rather wait for you to share it with me rather than reading someone else’s version of it,” he tells her as he takes a slow sip of his wine. “And I don’t need to read those stories to know that underneath your carefully crafted façade is a person who deserves to be happy, to be loved—a person whose heart has been broken over and over, but still beats, a person whose resilient and has spent a lifetime rebuilding her life into to something she should be proud of.”

“How do you know that?”

“You forget I lived through your reign. And, your reputation supersedes you.”

“Oh. Right,” she murmurs in reply. “But you… really believe that… that I deserve to be happy.”

“I really believe that,” he tells her with a sincere nod. “You didn’t ruin anyone’s life with this curse, Regina—not mine or my son’s or even Mary-Margaret Blanchard’s. And you didn’t ruin your own.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You seem awfully sure about that. What about… the life you left behind? What about all those memories you’ve had to live with for all these years, those painful memories that I gave you?”

He sighs and a slight smile edges onto his lips, and she watches as takes a short sip of his wine. “I rather enjoy having things like indoor plumbing and centralized heating. I like that when my son is sick, I can give him medicine that makes his feel better. I like that I have purpose in this life, that I can be a man my son can look up to, that I can leave him something that will make his life better. And as for those painful memories, you gave me ones that were much kinder than the truth.” Before she can even form a reply, he leans in and drops a feathery kiss onto her cheek. “And had it not been for that curse, you and I might never have found each other and I really can’t fathom my life without you and Henry in it. So, yes, I am very sure that this curse didn’t ruin anything.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure,” she murmurs, offering him a sheepish grin as she takes a quick sip of her wine. “And since you’re sure, I suppose it’s safe to admit that… I… feel the same way that your do.”

“About the curse?”

“And _other_ things,” she admits as a lopsided grin forms on her lips as she struggles to push out the words she’s been holding onto for months.

“Other things,” he repeats as a smile spreads across his lips and she catches as her bottom lip catches between her teeth as she continues to grapple with her words. “You don’t have to say it, you know.”

“I know,” she nods. “But I want to—I want to tell that I love you because I… do, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt like this about anyone and before, I didn’t say it enough… and…” She sighs as her cheeks flush, realizing she’s just stumbled through her confession. “And now I’m just rambling.”

“Cut yourself some slack,” he tells her in a soft voice as he reaches for her hand and gives it a little squeeze. “And speaking of cutting—we’ve got some carrots to dice up and glaze.”

He offers her a quick wink and turns away from as he pulls a cutting board from the dish rack and she turns to the refrigerator to retrieve the carrots—and just like that, everything feels normal between them.

_____

They finish preparing the dinner—mashed potatoes and maple glazed carrots, rosemary and thyme stuffing and creamed Brussels sprouts with cranberry relish, and a sweet potato casserole with a gooey marshmallow topping. There are fresh baked rolls and a cranberry spinach salad—and of course, an apple crumble pie and overly frosted sugar cookies for desert.

The boys eat their weight and then some—and by the end of the meal everything is stacked on the counter. Roland and Henry go into the living, spreading out blankets on the floor as Henry puts in the first Harry Potter movie and Roland beams with excitement. Regina finds herself in the kitchen, staring at the mess of half-eaten food and long-forgotten pans and used plates, and she takes a breath and slowly exhales it, wishing more than anything she could wave her hand an make it all go away.

“You’re not doing this now,” Robin murmurs as he comes into the kitchen.  “The movie’s starting and the boys are asking for you.”

“Oh, I… I’ll be in after I clean this up.”

“It can wait,” Robin insists.

“But it’ll bother me and…”

“Regina,” he cuts in as his hand slips over her hip, causing her voice to halt and her thoughts to become very muddled. “It’s Thanksgiving and you admittedly haven’t slept in days.”

“How did you know that?”

“You told me,” he grins. “When I was making the cranberry dressing for the salad.”

“Oh...I was exaggerating,” she says dismissively.

“No you weren’t. I can tell.” She blinks as she looks up at him. “It’s in your eyes.” He presses his fingers gently into the fabric of her skirt. “Henry said you’ve been looking forward to this movie since you finished the book.”

“We finished the book yesterday…”

“Still…” He urges, once more pressing at her hip and making it difficult to argue. “We can clean up afterward.”

She sighs and nods, and takes his hand to lead him back to the darkened living room. Her heart warms at the sight of Henry and Roland laying on their stomach atop of an oversized fleece blanket with a plate of sugar cookies between them. Robin sits down first and opens his arm to her—and she takes a breath before sitting beside him. She pulls a blanket over their laps and arm folds around her shoulders, and by the time first scene ends, her head is on his shoulder and her eyes are growing heavy…

“Regina,” she hears a voice call. “Regina, wake up.” She flinches as hand falls on her forearm and her eyes fly open, and for a brief moment the room feels completely dark. Her heart is racing and she can feel beads of sweat on her forehead. There’s an unbearable ache in her stomach and she can feel the tear tracks on her cheeks—and then Robin comes into focus.

She pulls herself up and looks around, looking to the floor where the boys had just been laying and then to the TV screen that was now darkened. “Wh-what happened?”

“I think you were having a nightmare.”

“No,” she lies. “I just… I just dozed off.”

“Four hours ago.”

“No…” Robin nods and turns his wrist toward her, showing her his watch face and showing her that it’s well past eleven. “Oh. Oh god…”

“It’s okay.”

“I… how much did you…” She sighs and her shoulders slump forward, and she rubs her hand roughly over her face as Leopold’s laugh drifts further and further away, retreating back into the recesses of her memory. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he’s quick to say. “Are you… okay.”

“Yeah, I just… I have this dream sometimes…”

“A nightmare.”

“No…”

“Henry told me.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as she looks up at him. “What did he… say?”

“Just that you have nightmares sometimes,” he says softly as he reached out and tucks a straying stand of hair behind her ear. “Do you… want to talk about it.”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay,” he tells her with a nod. “But if you want to, I’m here to listen.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs groggily as she stretches out her arms and pulls herself up. “I just… need some water.” Robin nods and walks beside her. “Hopefully I can track down a clean…” Her voice halts as he flicks on a brighter light and she looks around at the nearly immaculate kitchen. Dishes are drying in the rack and the dishwasher is humming softly.  There are new towels hanging from the stove and in front of the sink and granite counter top shines in the light—and on the stove is pot that smells of milk and honey. “Is that…”

“Henry said this helps.”

“He did?”

“Not tonight. He didn’t know anything about tonight’s nightmare. He and Roland are upstairs trying pretty unsuccessfully to build Hogwarts out of legos, but that night you two stayed over, he… told me this might happen and that honeyed milk helps.”

Tears brim in her eyes as she slowly turns back to him. “It does…”

“Okay, then I’ll get you a cup.”

She watches as Robin pulls out one of the stools for her and then fills a cup with warm honeyed milk before sitting down beside her—and when he extends it to her, she can’t help but notice his tattoo. “You… didn’t have to do all this.”

“Oh, it was nothing.”

“I mean the kitchen. The kitchen was a bit more than nothing. ” She takes a breath as she looks up at him—for so many years, she’d been alone. Even before the curse, she’d never had someone who was just there, who did little things to make her smile and make her feel like she mattered. And she can’t help but wonder how differently her life would have turned out had she found him sooner. There were so many missed opportunities—times when she wanted to run away from her mother and the king, times she wanted to leave her marriage and find her own happiness; and there’d once been time when she’d been so close to it, when she’d nearly been close enough to reach out and touch him. Years later, she’d tried again and once more, she’d only been disappointed—and she wonder had any of those times worked of, if any other those opportunities had led to one another, if they’d have been the same people they were now and if that would have made a difference. She looks up at him, momentarily searching his eyes, and wondering if everything they’d been through—together and apart—had led them to this moment of contentment and understanding and finds herself thinking that she likes that thought, that makes everything else feel worthwhile and that those years of bitter loneliness have only made this one sweeter. And perhaps, it really was all about timing—perhaps this was their time.

“I always have the same dream,” she begins as she looks down at the honey milk and slowly lifts the cup to sip it. “It was the first year of my marriage…” She trails off momentarily, and watches as his hand slips over hers, holding onto it loosely as he listens intently to a story she’s never told.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is coming and Henry is NOT looking forward to it, so Regina encourages him to write a letter to Santa; meanwhile, Robin and Regina go on a date.

Regina grins as she looks across the counter where Robin, Roland and Henry are sitting. Roland is sitting on Robin’s lap, kicking his feet back and forth impatiently, while Henry stares down at the counter, his brow furrowing as he looks at the colorful rows of candies lined up in front of him.

“I… still don’t get it,” Henry groans, looking back to a scrap paper that Robin wrote a math problem down on. “Why do there need to be _fractions of numbers_ , anyway? What’s wrong with whole numbers? Those are easier.”

“They are easier,” Robin agrees. “But everything made up of parts, and fractions make up the parts of a whole number.” Dropping his face into his hands, Henry sighs audibly—and Regina’s grin deepens and her heart flutters as Robin reaches over and rubs his hand over Henry’s back. “Okay, let me show you again…”

Glancing quickly back down at the bowl of nearly-mashed potatoes in front of her, she blinks a couple of times as adds a little sour cream and continues to whip them, listening as Robin explains the problem again in a voice that’s patient and kind. Looking up, she watched as Henry chews at his bottom lip, obviously struggling to understand and she watches as Robin picks up a pencil, pointing at one of the written fractions and then to the candies, and it makes her heart clench—because if she ever needed a reminder of why she’d taken a chance on him and allowed herself to fall in love, its moments like this that prove that he was worth it.

“So, I can add them because… they’re all red.”

“Yes.”

“And what do they have in common?” Robin asks. “Well, aside from being red.”

Henry blinks down at the paper, staring at it for a minute before looking back to Robin. “Um… the number at the bottom is the same.”

“Good!” Robin says as grin stretches across his lips. “And what’s that number called?”

“The… dominator?”

“Denominator,” Robin corrects softly. “So, add them up and…” His voice trails off as Henry takes the pencil, looking between the paper and the candy. “Good…”

“If you’re only using the red ones,” Roland begins, looking up at Robin with wide eyes. “Can I eat the other colors?”

“No,” Robin’s quick to say. “The other colors are for other problems.”

Roland sighs as his bottom lip pouts out. “How many problems are there?”

“Too many,” Henry tells him as he chews at his lip as he struggles through the math problem in front of him.

“So, you need _all_ of the M &Ms?” Roland asks doubtfully, fidgeting with his hands as he tries to resist reaching for the candy just a few inches away. “Every single one?”

“Every single one,” Robin says with a nod.

Regina laughs softly as Roland frowns, sighing in disappointment as he throws his head back against Robin’s shoulder. “Hey, Roland,” she says as she spreads the mashed potatoes atop the shepherd’s pie that she’s been working on for the better part of the hour. “I’m about to put this in the oven. Do you want to lick the spoon?”

“Really? Can I?” He asks, hopping off Robin’s lap and running to the end of the counter toward her as his eyes light up. She grins as she hands him the spoon, and gives Robin a quick wink before lifting the pie from the counter to put it into the oven. “The potatoes are fluffy,” Roland giggles. “Like snow.”

“Yeah, I guess they do kind of look like snow.”

“They taste better, though.”

“Do they?”

“Yeah,” Roland says with a nod as he licks the spoon. “Snow is just crunchy water. It doesn’t taste like much.”

“Oh,” she says with a little laugh as she sets the timer on the oven. “I… never thought of it that way.”

“We learned about it in science this week,” Roland tells her as he sighs contently and takes another lick from the spoon. “I hope it snows for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Regina murmurs as she closes the oven door and looks back at him. “That would be nice.”

“It didn’t snow last year,” he tells her. “And it _always_ snows in the movies.”

“It does always snow in the movies,” Henry says with a nod, looking up from his math problem and looking between them all before looking back down. “But then, movies always make Christmas look so perfect.”

Regina blinks up at him as Robin turns to look at him, noticing exactly what she does—and she realizes that it’s not just her seeing it and her stomach sinks a little. There’d been an edge in Henry’s voice and a certain sadness behind his eyes that she’d hoped she was only imagining, and it breaks her heart a little to know that it wasn’t all in her head. Though she knows that it’s safe to assume that Christmas hadn’t been a very happy time in Henry’s past, she’d expected him to be just as excited about this holiday as he about Halloween and Thanksgiving, and every other “first” they’d experienced together. But since the Christmas festivities around town started, Henry had shied away from them. He didn’t want to watch Christmas movies and he wanted to gloss over the parts about Christmas in the Harry Potter books they were reading together. Very reluctantly, he’d made out a Christmas list and when they decorated the tree he’d been very quiet, as though doing it only to humor her.

 “That’s because it _is_ perfect,” Roland tells him, bringing her back into the present moment. “It’s _best_ day of the _whole_ year.” The knot in her stomach tightens as Henry nods, offering Roland a slight and appeasing grin before turning his attention back to the math problem and finds herself wondering just how bad the past seven Christmases were for him and wishing, for what seems like the millionth time, that she could have been stronger and braver and saved him from whatever it was. “Daddy and I are going to see Santa this week,” Roland continues, not noticing the way that Henry fidgets nervously at the mentioning of it. “I wonder if he’ll remember me from last year…”

“Well, he does see a lot of children this time of year,” Robin tells him softly as he looks between Regina and Henry. “But you are a pretty memorable kid… though, I might be a tad bias in that regard.”

Regina grins as Roland hands her the now-cleaned spoon. “We’re going on Thursday after school.”

“We’re going on Thursday after _dinner_ ,” Robin corrects.

“Oh, that’ll be fun.”

“Yeah! I’ve got my list ready for him,” Roland tells her, his grin deepening as he hands back the spoon. “I was really good this year, so I think I have a pretty good shot at getting everything that’s on it.” Regina laughs a little as Robin grimaces, but once again her eyes shift to Henry, who’s staring down at the math problem with hooded eyes and a little frown. “Hey! Do you and Henry want to come with us?”

Regina blinks, looking down at Roland for a moment before turning her focus back on Henry, watching as he takes a deep breath and then smiles and nods. “That’d be fun,” he says halfheartedly as he musters an unconvincing little smile. “We should go with them, Mom.”

“Okay,” she says with a nod. “If… if Robin doesn’t mind?”

“I’d love for you two to come,” he says, looking between her and Henry, clearly noticing the brave face that Henry’s wearing. “In fact, I just sort of… assumed the two of you would be coming with us.” He grins sheepishly as he looks up at Regina. “It’s becoming kind of a… habit.”

“Yeah,” she grins as her eyes shift to him, watching the way he continues to rub both absently and encouragingly at Henry’s back and smiles at her with such warmth. “I… guess it is.”

Since Thanksgiving, everything yet nothing had changed between them—and at times, she was caught off guard by how easy it was for them to be together.

They still had their Tuesday night dinners and a weekly movie night with the boys—something that they never seemed to actually plan yet always somehow managed to happen, and they still met at Granny’s for brunch late on Sunday mornings. But in addition to all of the things that were there before, there were soft and intentional touches as they prepared dinner while the boys played and quick kisses as they cleaned up afterward; Robin’s fingers would lace down though hers as they walked together and her head would fall to his shoulder as they watched whatever movie the boys had picked out—and every now and then, she catches herself thinking that these were the moments she wished that she could live again and again, year after year.

“You know,” Robin begins in a tentative voice as he looks from Regina to Henry. “I think we’ve had enough of fractions for tonight.” Regina watches as Henry’s eyes brighten and his shoulders straighten, and grateful grin tugs onto her lips. “The only question is… what should we do with all of these M&Ms?”

“We could eat them!” Roland suggests as he climbs back onto Robin’s lap.

“That sounds like a fabulous idea,” Regina says, finally as she comes around the counter and stretches her arm around Henry’s shoulders and presses a quick kiss to his hair. “How about we make brownies for desert?”

“We can put the M&Ms _into_ the brownies!” Roland decides, looking between them all.

“I wouldn’t say no to brownies,” Henry says, tipping his head back and looking up at her with a grin—and again, she leans in drops a kiss to his forehead.

“Well, then I think we have a plan,” Robin says, offering her a wink as he begins to gather the M&Ms. “Brownies, it is.”

_____

After dinner was cleaned up and the brownies had cooled, the four of them retreated into the living room, settling around the coffee table. The boys picked Trouble from Henry’s board game collection and they ate a brownie as Robin and Regina sipped coffee, and she was grateful that the topics of Christmas and Santa Claus did not come up again.

By the end of the evening, both boys were asleep. Roland’s cheek was smushed against Robin’s shoulder and Henry’s head rested her lap. Her fingers combed through Henry’s hair as she and Robin made tentative plans for Thursday—something Robin assured her that she and Henry could back out of with no hard feelings should Henry not feel up to it when the day came. She’d smiled and thanked him as they carefully got up, laughing softly as Henry’s head fell onto the couch, completely unaware that she’d moved away. Roland’s eyes fluttered briefly as she helped Robin get him into his coat and by the time they made their way to the front door, he was fast asleep once again.

“Hey, before we go,” Robin says, as he shifts Roland in his arms. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“Okay,” he says, as a grin pulls up onto his lips. “Are you free on Saturday evening?”

“Free?” She asks, somehow a little surprised by the question. “Well, I mean, I’m never actually free these days. But… Henry and I don’t have plans.”

His grin brightens. “So, if I can find a babysitter for the boys, would you be interested in… going on a date?”

“A date…”

“A date,” he says with a nod. “You know, just you and me, some dinner that doesn’t have to be kid-friendly and some drinks that… also don’t have to be kid-friendly.” He chuckles softly as his eyes pinch shut. “It’s late and I’m not selling this well, am I?”

“You don’t have to sell anything,” she tells him. “I’d love to go out and… have a drink with you that didn’t come with a lid and funny little straw.”

 “Wonderful,” he tells her, his eyes sparkling as he smiles. “I was thinking I could pick you up around four. I know that’s early, but I was thinking that we could do a little Christmas shopping before dinner.” He pauses and shakes his head, chuckling softly as he glances down at Roland. “Because, apparently, I have more shopping to do than I initially planned. Who knew that Santa was getting everything on his list this year?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

She laughs and smiles as he leans in, pressing a quick and feathery kiss to her lips, murmuring his goodbyes as he slowly pulls back—and her heart flutters with excited anticipation as she watches him leave.

 “So, you two are _finally_ going on a real date…”

She turns to find Henry standing behind her, grinning groggily at her. “Yeah, we are,” she nods. “Are you okay with that?”

“Of course I am,” he tells her. “You’re forgetting who set you two up in the first place.”

“Ah, right…”

“Besides that, I really like Robin.”

“I do, too,” she confesses, scrunching her nose as she laughs a little and then extends her hand to him. “How about we go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

“If I get up a little earlier tomorrow, can I take my shower then?” He asks, taking her hand as he yawns. “I just want to go to bed.”

“No Harry Potter tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Henry murmurs as they make their way up the stairs. “We can do double tomorrow.”

“I _knew_ you were going to say that.”

Henry giggles as they make their way to his room. He falls back on the bed as she goes to the dresser, retrieving a pair of pajamas before turning to the closet to pick out fresh pair of pants and a shirt that he’ll wear the next day to school. He takes the pajamas from her, changing quickly as she searches for a pair of dress socks and his tie, and when she turns to his desk to reach for his blazer, she notices a note that’s addressed to her.

“Oh… I… I forgot about that.”

“What is it?” She asks, picking up a folded piece of paper with ‘Ms. Mills’ writing across one of the blank sides in Mary-Margaret Blanchard’s handwriting. “Were you supposed to give this to me?”

“Maybe…” She blinks as Henry fidgets. “It’s… it’s nothing though. I just didn’t want to do an assignment today.” His cheeks flush as he looks away from her. “I… kind of refused so Ms. Blanchard wrote you a note about it.”

“You _refused_ to do an assignment?”

“It was dumb,” he murmurs, still not looking at her. “Besides, I have an A in English. One missing…”

“Stop right there,” she cuts in as she opens up the piece of paper. “Having an A doesn’t mean you get to pick and choose what work you do.”

“I know…”

Her chest tightens as she reads the note, explaining that for today’s writing assignment, Henry and his classmates were supposed to write a letter to Santa—and just as Henry told her, he’d refused to do it. Enclosed with the note were the instructions for the assignment and a stamped envelope so the letter could be sent to the Santa at his workshop at the North Pole.

“Henry…”

“I’m sorry.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“I shouldn’t have refused to do my work,” Henry tells her, his voice cracking as his jaw starts to tremble. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… not the letter that I want to talk to you about,” she says, dropping his uniform down onto the chair at his desk. “I… I’ve just noticed that you don’t seem very excited about Christmas and…”

“I don’t like Christmas.”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m getting that,” she says softly as she takes him and leads him over to the bed. “I know holidays were… rough for you before,” she begins in a soft voice. “But I feel like there’s more to this.”

Henry looks over at her and his lips part, but words don’t come. Kissing his forehead, she stretches her arm around his shoulders and hugs him into her side, rubbing her hand over his arm. “Christmas is just the worst,” he murmurs quietly after a few minutes. “It’s all a lie.”

“What?”

“Christmas,” he tells her, looking up at her with teary eyes. “It’s a lie—all of it is.”

“What do you mean, Henry?”

“All of it. The peace and good will, the season of giving… even Santa,” he says quietly as he looks back down at his lap. “And for one day every year, everyone buys it.”

“Except you,” Regina murmurs. Henry doesn’t reply, instead he just shrugs his shoulders. Feeling a tightening in her chest, she hugs him a little closer. “How long have you felt this way?”

“A long time.”

“How long is long?”

“A couple of years,” he tells her quietly. “I was just in denial before.”

“Denial?”

“Yeah,” Henry nods. “I wanted to believe in it all, just like everyone else does, but…” His voice trails off and he looks up at her. “But it got too hard.” He takes a shallow breath as he fidgets with his fingers. “And if… if all that were real and if Santa were real, he wouldn’t have forgotten about me so many times.”

“Oh, Henry…”

 “And I know that we’re going to have a really nice Christmas and you’ll get whatever I ask you for and we’ll have a nice dinner and everything, but…” He looks back at his lap and takes a breath. “It won’t be like how it’s supposed to be… no matter what.”

“What do you mean?”

“The magic,” he tells her, looking up at her with wide eyes. “It’s gone and I never got to enjoy it.” With a long sigh, he looks back to his lap. “That sounds stupid now that I’m saying it out loud.”

“No…”

“Yeah, it does…”

“Henry,” she begins, taking a breath as she reaches out and turns his chin toward her. “Your feelings aren’t stupid.” Rubbing the back of her fingers beneath his chin, she exhales her breath. “You’ve had a rough childhood and more than anything, I wish I could change that. I wish that I…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is, kind of,” she admits quietly as the knot her stomach tightens. “Had I been braver and stronger and… had a I just believed, none of what happened to you would have happened. You wouldn’t have missed out on Christmas mornings and visits to Santa and making silly little reindeer ornaments out of popsicle sticks…”

“Those always look weird anyway,” Henry tells her as he offers her a meek little smile

“They do,” she agrees, smiling back as a lump rises at the back of her throat. “But we would have made them anyway.” Leaning in, she presses a kiss to his forehead. “I can’t change what happened. I wish I could, but I can’t,” she tells him as she reaches out and combs her fingers through the front of his hair. “But I can try to make things better from this point forward.”

He nods and a sad little smile stretches across his lips. “Things _are_ better.”

“But it doesn’t make the memories easier to deal with, does it?” Henry shakes his head as she takes a breath, thinking of her own life and the difficult memories she can’t erase, and how strangely similar it seemed to Henry’s. “But you know, those memories don’t mean the magic’s gone.”

“But… I don’t believe anymore.”

“In Santa?”

“Yeah and all the other stuff,” Henry mumbles as he looks back to his lap. “I’m kind of… jealous of Roland.” He takes a breath and looks up at her with teary eyes. “He still believes there’s magic.”

“There’s magic all around,” she says as her chest tightens. “You just have to notice it.” Henry’s brow furrows and she feels a smile pulling onto her lips. “I mean, look at you and me, for example.”

“You and me?”

“Never in a million years did I think I’d see you again or get a second chance to be your mom,” she tells, feeling a tiny pang of guilt tugging at her heartstrings. “But here we are, getting that second chance.”

“Yeah, that’s true…”

“Do you remember what I asked you at the diner that night we found each other?”

He blinks up at her and she can see him trying to remember something significant from that evening. “You… asked me a lot of things.”

“I asked you if you believed in fate.”

“Oh, yeeaaah. I do remember that.”

“And do you remember what I said about it?”

“That it was fate that brought us together.”

She smiles a little at the bittersweet memory and chooses to focus on the sweet. “That was magic, Henry.”

“What was?”

She laughs a little as his brow creases with confusion and he looks up at her with eyes that want to understand. “Me finding you again—that was magic.” She grins as he considers. “There’s really is magic all around you,” she tells him. “And the more you choose to believe in it, the easier it’ll be to see.” He smiles a little and she leans in to kiss his forehead as a flicker of a memory begins to flutter and she remembers the bright-eyed and hopeful girl she’d once been. “I’m not telling you that you have to believe in Santa Claus,” she tells him with a slight chuckle. “But the rest of… that’s worth believing in.”

Henry nods and his cheeks flush a little. “Maybe…”

“You have the right to believe whatever you want to believe, Henry.” Reaching down she looks at Mary-Margaret Blanchard’s note and a smile tugs onto her lips. “I’ll tell you what,” she begins as she looks back at him. “You should write this letter—and not just because it’s an assignment and a grade. You should write it and ask for something and… and then see what happens on Christmas morning. See if on Christmas morning you wake up to a little bit of magic underneath the tree.”

“That’s… a pretty clever idea.”

“I have my moments.” Henry giggles and he reaches into her lap and picks up the note. Regina watches as his fingers trace the scalloped edge of the stamp. “Okay, now, I think it’s time for bed.” Henry sighs but nods as he crawls to the center of the bed and tucks his feet beneath the heavy blankets. He lays back against the pillows as Regina takes the envelope from him and drops it down onto his night stand. She turns off the lamp and the room darkens as she sits back onto the edge of his bed, adjusting the covers around him as he leans in and kisses his forehead. “I love you, Henry.”

“I love you, too.”

She nods as she watches his eyes close—and again, she thinks of that hopeful and bright-eyed girl that the darkness chased away so many years before, and for the first time in a very long time, she wonders if beneath it all, that girl is still there inside of her.

_____

 “And done!” Regina announces as she files the last of the vendor’s permits into a manila envelope and seals it. “I am done for the year!”

Henry giggles. “You mean you’re done for _two weeks_.”

“Well… yes,” she says as she reaches for a role of stamps. “But it makes it sound so much more exciting to say that you’re done for the year.” She offers him a wink as she peels off a few stamps and presses them into the corners of the envelopes, making a mental note to drop them in the mail the next morning. “And I’m done _just in time_ for cookies.”

“They’re not done just yet,” Henry says very matter-of-factly as he pushes a Hershey kiss into the center of a peanut butter cookie. “They have to cool.”

“Says who?” She asks, arching an eyebrow as she reaches for one of the fresh-from-the-oven cookies.

“The recipe card… that _you_ wrote,” Henry tells her as he bats away her hand. “Besides, you’ll burn yourself.”

Before she can say anything more, the door bell rings and Henry runs toward it—and a moment later, she hears Robin and Roland entering the house. She can hear Roland telling Henry about the movie he brought over and Robin makes a comment about the pizza and how he _accidently_ ordered it with extra cheese. Grinning, she reaches across the counter, collecting her work and sweeping it out of the way and into a neat little pile to clear room so that the boys could spread out with their pizza.  She grabs a cookie from the cooling rack, biting into as they enter the kitchen, and she can’t help but laugh as Henry’s eyes widen and his jaw drops open and he silently chastises her for taking a cookie before they were ready. She shrugs her shoulders innocently and Henry rolls his eyes.

“What? I had to test one to see if they were ready to eat.”

“Are they?” Roland asks immediately—this time earning an eye roll from Robin. “Can we eat them?”

“Not quite yet,” Regina tells him. “They’re still a bit too hot.”

Robin sets the pizza down on the counter, opening the top as the boys practically drive toward it and he leans in, pressing a soft and quick kiss to her lips. “Mmm,” he murmurs as he pulls back. “Peanut buttery.”

“And chocolatey,” Regina adds as he plucks the half-melted Hershey kiss from the center of the cookie and pops it into her mouth. “Not quite as good as the apple caramel version of the recipe, but still pretty tasty.”

“You’d eat apples on anything, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” she blinks, stifling the urge to laugh. “I like what I like.”

Robin laughs out, but before he can respond Henry’s voice pipes up, asking if he and Roland can eat in the living room while they set up the movie—and with a reluctant sigh, she nods. And a moment later, she and Robin are alone. He offers her a playful little grin as his hand slips of her hip and he pulls her back in for a longer kiss.

“You’re right,” he murmurs as he pulls back. “That was pretty tasty.”

Playfully swatting the back of her hand against his chest, she circles around the counter and hands him a plate. “So, what movie did Roland bring over?” She asks, lifting a slice of pizza from the box and placing it on his plate. “Henry was pretty excited about whatever it is,” she adds as she plates her own slice.

“The Land before Time,” Robin says as a grin pulls onto his lips. “It’s one of our favorites.”

“I… don’t know it.”

Robin blinks. “It’s Bambi, but with dinosaurs.”

“Oh…”

“Really? You’ve never seen it?”

“Up until very recently I didn’t really have a reason to watch a cartoon about an orphaned dinosaur,” she tells him, once again stifling the urge to laugh. “And I’m now wondering if Roland really picked this movie out… or if his father did.”

“It’s a George Lucas movie.”

“Oh, okay…” Regina murmurs, rolling her eyes as she lifts the open DVD case and flips it over. “Well, that’s not what this says…”

“He _consulted_.” At that, she can’t help but laugh and Robin rolls his eyes as he leans against the counter. “You laugh now, but you are going to love this movie.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she tells him as she moves toward the refrigerator and pulls out two cans of soda. “We should get in there. You might miss the beginning…”

“Which is beautifully done, let me tell you,” Robin says as a grin twists onto his lips. “But first, I have something for you.”

“Do you?”

“For you,” he says with a nod, extending a red and white cardboard frame to her. “It’s from last night. They gave me two pictures.”

“Ohh,” she breathes out, flipping the card over and looking down at Henry and Roland sitting on Santa—really, Marcus, the beloved and retired carpenter who year after year volunteered to play Santa Claus in Storybrooke’s parade and at the department store where everyone always did their holiday shopping. “Look at them.”

“Henry’s smiling.”

“He is,” Regina says with a nod as she traces her fingers over the edge of the frame, remembering the night before. She thinks of the deep breath Henry took as he told her that he still wanted to go, explaining that it was important to Roland, so regardless of how he felt about Christmas and Santa and everything else, he wanted to go. They’d met Roland and Robin at Granny’s and the four of them ate burger and milkshakes before walking down to the end of Main Street to the crowded little department store. The line long and moved slowly, and the boys played a game of “I Spy” while Robin held her hand. And when she and Henry returned home and then end of the evening, Henry was practically beaming as he confessed that the visit to Santa hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d expected—and she had a sneaking suspicion that he was finally starting to feel a little excitement about his first Christmas in Storybrooke.  “He looks so happy,” she says after a minute. “They both do.”

“Henry was a very good sport about the whole thing,” Robin says, pushing himself away from the counter. “How is he… handling things? I know he wasn’t really feeling any Christmas cheer.”

“It’s hard for him,” Regina admits as she puts the picture up on the refrigerator.  “He’s never had a real Christmas, so he’s finds the whole thing a little disenchanting.”

“Christmas for a kid in Henry’s position must have been… so tough,” Robin says with a little scoff. “And somehow ‘tough’ seems like such an understatement.”

She nods, “He had to write a letter to Santa for school and… he didn’t do it at first…”

“Well, I can kind of understand why…”

“Yeah, well, I made him do it and… and I kind of feel like he’s building up some sort of expectation that whatever he put in that letter is… going to be a test.”

“A test?”

“It’s… complicated, but I really think he wants to believe.”

“Even though he doesn’t?”

“ _Because_ he doesn’t,” Regina says with a sigh. “And even though every parenting blog I’ve read tells me that I shouldn’t spoil him, I do—and I’m going to for Christmas—but I can’t help but think that he’s still going to be disappointed.”

“I don’t think that you could ever disappoint him.”

“We’ll see…”

“Regina,” Robin says, reaching out and touching his fingers to the back of her hand. “Henry loves you and he loves the life that you’ve given him. Whatever he asked for in that letter, I have no doubt you’ll give him.” A grin tugs up at the corners of his mouth. “And I would know—after all, you’ve sent me pictures of almost every gift you’ve gotten him.”

“A second opinion is always useful,” she murmurs, feigning defensiveness as she reaches for his hand. “Come on. We should get in there, otherwise you’ll miss your favorite movie and my living room will be covered in glitter.”

“Glitter?”

“Yeah,” she says with a long sigh. “Every year the elementary school has the kids make hand-made snowflakes to decorate the windows at City Hall with for the winter, but somehow we were short this year.”

“Ah…”

“So, I brought home a bunch of craft supplies and thought maybe Henry and Roland might want to make a snowflake or two or… twenty… while they watch the movie.”

“You are really something else, you know that?” Her brow furrows as she looks back at him and for a moment, he seems like he’s hesitating. “I… I know we agreed that we’d table talking about the curse until after the New Year…”

“Oh…” she breathes out, her stomach dropping a little as she looks away from him. “What about it?”

“I just…” He chuckles soft. “You do know that your so-called Dark Curse is terrible, don’t you?” She blinks a couple of times, staring up at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, not really sure how to respond or whether or not she should feel offended. “I mean, really, is this the worst you could do?”

“I… I took away the happy endings of hundreds of people…”

“Yeah, everyone in this town is just so damn miserable.” Again, she can only blink, too taken aback to actually respond. “Regina, you have spent year after year after year bending over backwards to make Storybrooke a nice place to live. You cursed us all to a place with indoor plumbing and centralized heating and… parades for holidays and other quaint little festivities.”

“And what’s your point?”

“My point is…” He sighs as he reaches for her hand, giving it a tight little squeeze. “I don’t think you have as much to worry about as you think you do.”

“You’re only saying that because…”

“Because I love you?” He shrugs. “Maybe, but maybe not.” Again he gives her hand a squeeze and rubs his thumb over her wrist in a circular motion that he’s come to realize that she finds soothing. “Regardless of what happens, you’re giving your son a good life here—just as you’ve given a lot of us a good life here. Don’t forget that.”

She can feel a lump rising in the back of her throat and squeezes his hand back before gently tugging him into the living room. They settle on the couch with their pizza. When the plates are empty, she puts them on an end table beside them and Robin arm stretches around her shoulder. She cuddles closer, pulling a blanket around them, watching as the boys decorate snowflakes and watch the movie. She can’t help but smile as she watches them—sometimes gasping as their eyes widen, sometimes laughing nearly uncontrollably and sometimes murmurs comments to each other and to the characters on the screen who can’t hear them. Every now and then, she glances over at Robin, who, for the most part, is just as engrossed in the movie as the boys are—and that, too, brings a smile to her face—and she finds herself wondering—wondering and hoping—that despite everything, at the very least, it’s possible that she won’t lose _them_.

______

She hadn’t expected him to show up on her door step with a rose—but he had—and from that point on, she hadn’t stopped smiling. From the late afternoon until their dinner reservation, they wandered in and out of the shops along Main Street. They picked up small gifts for the boys here and there, and one or two larger items at the department store. When the sky began to darken the snow began to fall, and they put their packages in Robin’s truck for safe-keeping and decided to walk to the little Italian bistro by the docks.

They held hands and walked slowly as they talked, and when they reached the restaurant, they were red-cheeked and laughing. He’d helped her with her coat and he’d pulled out her chair, and they settled together at a little round table adorned with a candle surrounded by a ring of deep red poinsettias. There was wine and breadsticks and a wonderful meal—and everything felt so lighthearted and full of contentment. And every now and then she found herself thinking about how easy it had been to lose herself in the moment. Though she hadn’t anticipated it, she was relieved that there wasn’t any awkwardness between them without having their sons there with them, and they fell into easy conversations about everything and nothing. She laughed and she smiled, and when the meal was done and the bill was paid, Robin asked if she wanted to grab a drink—and she hadn’t been able to resist agreeing because she didn’t want the night to end.

They ended up at the Rabbit Hole, and Robin ordered their drinks at the bar, while she found a table. As expected on a Saturday night, it was crowded and louder than she usually liked, but they sat nearly side by side, and she found that she couldn’t be bothered by the atmosphere.

“You look like you could use another,” Robin says, tipping back her empty glass as he eyes her.

“You’re trying to get me drunk.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not…” He tells her as a grin twists onto his lips. “But now that you mention it, something tells me you’re a fun drunk.”

“A fun drunk?”

“Yeah, you know, the kind of person who really lets loose when they’ve had a few too many.”

Her eyes narrow, “Is that your subtle way of telling me that I’m uptight?”

“Never.”

Laughing, she shakes her head, rolling her eyes as she slides the glass toward him. “I wouldn’t say no to another.”

“Then I will be right back,” he tells her, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her cheek he slides out of the booth—and almost before he can even get to his feet, Graham is standing at their table with a smug, drunken grin. He looks from Robin to Regina, letting his eyes linger in a way that makes her wish that she could just disappear. 

It’s hard to remember a time when Graham wasn’t in her life, in one way or another, and she hates the way she used him in the Enchanted Forest and in the earliest years of the curse to feel less lonely, to have someone there with her and remind herself of the control she constantly felt was slipping away for her. It hadn’t mattered to her then that the he didn’t want to be there, that she wasn’t anything to him and that he wasn’t anything to her—the only thing that had mattered was that for a little while, when they were together, she could forget and that she could pretend.

“Ya know,” Graham slurs as his eyes shift from her to Robin. “You’re wasting your time with this one.”

“I beg your pardon?” Robin asks, taking a step forward as she reaches for his arm, pressing her fingertips into his sleeve as a feeling of regret settles at her core as she waits for Graham to continue.

“I’m just saying, with this one, there’s no need for dinners or drinks, none of that romantic crap,” Graham says, laughing a little as he takes a long sip from his mug. “No, this one… she just likes it quick, rough and dirty.”

“Excuse me?” She hears Robin say, his voice piquing with anger as her fingers press harder against his arm. “What did you just say?”

Her eyes sink closed and she holds her breath, just waiting for Graham to reveal something about their very complicated past and them memories of her he believes to be real—and then her stomach drops at the realization that the truth would be so much worse than the lie.

“You heard me,” Graham says, grinning as he looks to her. “Just push her up against a wall and get you jollies. That’s all she…”

“That’s _enough_ ,” Robin says, stepping forward and out of her reach. “You’re drunk, Sheriff, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say that it’s the liquor talking.”

Graham’s lips purse and Robin takes a step in, but before either of them can say or do anything else, one of Graham’s friends swoops in and corrals him back to the others. She watches as Robin takes a couple of breathes, his shoulders rising and falling heavily as he unclenches his fists.

“I’m sorry,” she hears herself say, not really sure what she’s apologizing for, but feel like she should—and when Robin turns to her, his eyes looking directly into hers, she feels her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I…”

“Don’t apologize for him,” he’s quick to say, softening as he slides back into the booth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I just…” She grimaces as she looks away from him, focusing on the empty glass as her fingers trace its edge. “It’s really hard to believe that he and I… ever…” She stops. It was never a relationship and she can’t pretend that it was. “You can’t blame him for this.”

“Well, I certainly can’t blame you.” There’s a long, tense pause and she wonders if this could be it—if this could be thing that makes him see her for who she is, the thing that unsettles him and makes him rethink it all, the thing that he can’t get passed. She knows that it’s coming, knows that it’s looming ahead, and even though he says he doesn’t care about her past, she can’t help but think he’s only saying that because he doesn’t know the details. “I don’t get it,” Robin says, his voice suddenly softer as he reaches for her hand, pulling it away from the glass and making her look at him. “If he were anyone else, you would never let him talk to you that way. You’d…”

“Shove my hand into his chest and rip out his heart?” She blinks. “Is that what I’d do?”

“Regina…”

“I’m sorry,” she says again—but not because she’s actually sorry for her words. “Because in another life, that’s exactly what I would have done to him.”

“I just meant that I’ve seen you tear into people for far less. I’ve spent years watching you—noticing you, paying attention to things you do and say as I tried to work up the courage to finally talk to you—and you’ve always had this sort of no nonsense attitude. Yet with Graham… he gets pass.”

She nods as she looks away from him, once more feeling her cheeks flush. “I… I did terrible things to him,” she says simply with a shrug of her shoulders, not wanting to get into the details of it. “For years, I… did things to him that are unforgivable, so yeah… he gets a pass sometimes.”

For a moment, Robin’s quiet; and for a moment, she wonders if he’s connecting the dots. But despite his silence and far off stare, his fingers still move in circular motions against the back of her wrist and when she looks up at him, he looks back with empathy. She knows, deep down, that he’s right and no one has ever been allowed to treat her the way she’s allowed Graham to treat her, but it had taken so long for her to understand the uncomfortable dynamic between them, and it’d taken even longer for her to stop it, and now that she had he was struggling to understand it.

With a sigh, she looks back at him. “I’ve certainly put a damper on the evening, haven’t it?”

“On the contrary,” he says, his tone changing as a smile tugs onto his lips. “You’ve done nothing of the sort.” Her eyebrow arches as she laughs a little as the knot in her stomach begins to loosen. “If you want to talk about this, though… I’m willing to listen and if you don’t… I’m willing to take your mind off of it.”

“And how do you anticipate doing that?” She asks, as her eyebrow arches. “Because I would love for you to take my mind off of what just happened.”

“Well,” he begins as his fingers slide to her palm. “The boys are likely tired and crashing from a sugar high, and John hasn’t texted his distress signal yet, so I think it’s safe to say, they’ll be spending the night.” She watches as a grin pulls onto his lips. “So, I was thinking we could… maybe… go back to my place and wrap the presents we bought tonight.”

She blinks. “You want to take me back to your place to… wrap presents.”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Like, actually wrap presents?”

“Christmas is in under a week and I live with a six year old who’s like a magnet for shiny things like wrapping paper.” He laughs a little as his grin deepens. “And if you want to wrap presents too, I… wouldn’t be opposed to that. I’m willing to share my rolls of Avengers Holiday Wrap.”

Again, she blinks as her brow creases. “Are we actually talking about wrapping presents? Or…”

Sliding out of the booth, Robin laughs and offers her his hand. She hesitates for only a moment before placing her hand in his and letting him pull her up. She smiles as his arm slide around her back and he presses a kiss to her temple. “I’m always here to listen, if you change your mind,” he tells her in a soft whisper as they make their way through the crowded bar.

She nods and his hand guides her back as he opens the door for her—and quickly, she glances back over her shoulder at Graham who’s sitting at the bar, nursing his drink. She sighs a little and pushes down her feelings, deciding that she’d much rather focus on the potential of a happy future rather than dwell on a sordid past.

_____

As it turned out, wrapping presents actually meant wrapping presents.

An hour after the bar, they were sitting on the floor in Robin’s living room with their packages spread out in front of them. There was colorful wrapping paper—plain and glittery, some patterned and others bearing superheroes. There’s a stack of wrapped gifts to her side and another in front of Robin, and she can’t help but laugh as he struggles with the tape, huffing and puffing about how pointless gift wrap is when all Roland will do is rip it to shreds on Christmas morning.

She laughs and suggests a break, and a grin tugs up at the corners of his mouth as he nods and agrees, suggesting a nightcap of hot chocolate. He gets up, offering her his hand as he helps her up and together, they make their way into the kitchen. She watches as he gets two mugs from the cabinet then moves toward the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of milk.

“Oh, do you make hot chocolate with water?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Always with milk. It’s…”

“Creamier,” he finishes for her. He laughs a little as he leans in to peck her lips. “See, I knew I liked you for a good reason.”

“And how I make hot chocolate is that reason?”

“Among other things,” he tells her with a wink as he pours the milk into a sauce pan and light the stove. “Would you like me to list them? Because I’d be glad to…”

She laughs out and shakes her head. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Alright then,” he laughs as he turns back to face her. “But if you change your mind or you feel like you ever might need a little reassurance, just let me know, and I’ll be more than happy to provide that.”

“We’re not talking about hot chocolate anymore, are we?”

“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “And I have a small confession to make.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding as he steps around her and grabbing a leather satchel from the counter. “I know that I said I wanted to wait for you to tell me your story, but…” With a guilty little smile, he pulls out the story book that appeared just after they’d returned from Roland’s birthday. “I got the impression there were things you might never tell me, things you’d think I couldn’t accept or would judge too harshly for or…”

“You stole the book from me?”

“You can’t be mad about that,” he tells her as smile turns coy. “You knew I was a thief before I did.”

She chuckles softly and nods. “So, this means you… know everything,” she says, more for her own benefit than his. “And you still think that I deserve to be happy? To be forgiven?”

“We all deserve a second chance, Regina.”

“Is that what this is? A second chance?”

He nods as places the book back into her hands. “Yes, it’s a second chance for both of us.”

She’s not sure what to say, but the more she thinks about what that means for her and for them the more overwhelmed she feels. There are tears brimming in her eyes as he leans in and drops a soft kiss to her cheek and his strokes the back of his fingers against her cheek before reluctantly turning away and pouring the warmed milk into the mugs before adding some of the cocoa mix. He tops it with some whipped cream, then hands her one of the mugs and he grins as she breathes in the steam.

His hand finds her waist as he leads her back into the living room, ignoring the wrapping paper, tissue paper and tape that’s scattered across the floor. They settle together on the couch and she leans back into him, and though neither of them says much of anything there’s a contentment between them that wasn’t there before—and she realizes that her shoulders have relaxed.

She thinks about Robin reading her story, reading about the bright-eyed and hopeful girl who’d been married off to a neglectful king while grieving for a lost love and starved for affection, who’d lashed out in pain at anyone and everyone and took solace in the darkness—and she finds that she’s grateful that he was somehow able to empathize with her.

It’s not lost on her that this means he knows her deepest and darkest secrets—the things she’s been vague about, things she’s been unwilling to confide—he knows about them and he loves her anyway.

She leans back into him as she takes a long sip for the hot chocolate, closing her eyes as his arm crosses over her chest. She hears him set down his mug on the end table and a moment later, his lips are fluttering down her jaw. His tongue flicks at her earlobe and a smile pulls to her lips as he dots warm kisses along her skin. She sets down her mug and turns herself in his arms as her lips press to his—and somehow, this kiss feels so much different than all of the others.

Her arms link around his shoulders and his hand find her waist as he slowly eases forward, pushing her back down onto the couch. Her tongue slides against his and her fingers tangle in his hair as she pulls him deeper into the kiss—and as his finger slide up her side, a soft buzzing jolts him up.

She blinks a few times as he mutters something she can’t quite decipher as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone—and then, he offers her a regretful little smile.

“John just sent that distress signal, didn’t he?”

Robin nods, “It appears my son doesn’t know how to control his sugar and… is throwing up all over the bathroom.”

“Oh, that’s… not good.”

“No,” Robin murmurs as his head dips forward and he rubs his hands roughly over his face. “I’m sorry that tonight’s going to end this way.” Looking over at her, he offers her a sheepish grin. “I… hope this doesn’t sound too presumptuous of me, but I really hoped that I’d be making you breakfast in the morning.”

Her bottom lip catches between her teeth as a little grin creeps onto her lips. “Can I… take a rain check?”

“Absolutely,” he tells her as he leans over and kisses her cheek.

______

Henry had been half asleep when they’d gotten to John’s house. He’d greeted them with a groggy grin and confessed that Roland had eaten an entire bag of marshmallows as they watched Star Wars. John offered a guilty grin as he’d nodded in confirmation, and then added they’d ordered an extra large pizza that just so happened to come with every imaginable topping and Henry giggled when he confessed he’d almost liked the anchovies because they were hidden by gobs of cheese and between pepperonis.

Robin’s eyes had rolled as he scooped up Roland from the couch, and he’d kissed Regina’s softly as he parted ways from John’s porch. On the drive home Henry chattered on about how much fun they’d had, even though Roland got sick, and he went on and on about the fort they’d made from blankets and how they’d pretended it was the Millennium Falcon. By the time they’d pulled into the drive way, Henry was yawning between words and his eyes were drooping—and when they got in, Regina sent him upstairs, kissing his forehead and telling him she’d be up to tuck him in soon…

Watching him slowly ascend the stairs, she smiles and shakes her head, kicking off her shoes as she reaches for the untouched pile of mail on the table in the foyer. Climbing up the few stairs that lead to living room, she sifts through advertisements barely looking at them as she shuffled them through the pile—and then, she notices a familiarly stamped envelope with Mary-Margaret Blanchard’s handwriting on the front. A half second later, she realizes its Henry’s letter to Santa and her heart skips a beat.

Dropping the rest of the mail down on the coffee table, she sits on the edge of the couch, pushing her finger beneath the seal and ripping open the envelope—and when she sees Henry’s handwriting, she can’t help but smile…

_Dear Santa,_

_My name is Henry Mills. I am eight years old and I live in Storybrooke, Maine. I want to be upfront with you about something very important and that is that I don’t believe in you. I’m writing this letter because my teacher, Ms. Blanchard made me, and because I promised my mom I wouldn’t have a missing assignment._

_I should also tell you that I don’t like Christmas. It’s nothing personal, it’s just not a holiday I’ve ever liked very much. Until this year, I lived with a foster family. They loved Christmas and every year they would get a huge tree and put it in the window. They’d decorate it with ornaments that were special. There were hand prints from when my foster sisters were little, and nice glass ornaments people had given them as presents. There were ornaments there were little frames with their school pictures in them and these dumb little popsicle stick reindeer with those plastic eyes that move when you shake them. I didn’t have any ornaments on the tree._

_One year my foster mom’s mom was in town so they took me with them to the mall to see you… or someone who was pretending to be you. That year, I asked for a reindeer ornament like the ones my foster sisters had so that mine could on the tree with theirs and I could be part of the family. I never got it. That’s when I knew you weren’t real because Santa doesn’t forget about kids, and you forgot about me._

_I have a new mom now because I was adopted this year. She is THE BEST MOM EVER. I really, really love her and I know that she loves me, too. We haven’t been together for very long, but already we have all of these really great things that we do together, like reading books and making cookies. I know that my mom is going to get me whatever I ask her to get me for Christmas (and probably even some things I don’t ask for, like socks and underwear and gloves and other boring things). But she told me that I should ask you for something and if I get it, then maybe I can think about giving you a second chance. I don’t know if you’ve earned it, but I promised my mom, so I’m going to do it._

_This is something I could never ask my mom for because I think it might hurt her feelings. I really, really love the life we have together and I don’t want her to think it’s not good enough because it’s better than anything I’ve ever had. But this year, what I want to ask you to get me for Christmas isn’t something you can’t buy. Before I was adopted I liked to watch TV before I went to bed. My room was in the basement at my foster parents’ house and there were lots of weird noises that were kind of scary at night. So, I used to leave the TV on when I went to bed, that way, I could trick myself into thinking that I wasn’t all by myself. Sometimes I would wake up and I would watch whatever show was on. It was usually something really old and in black and white, but one of my favorite things about those shows was that they were always about families that loved each other. No matter what happened in the episode, at the end of it, everyone was smiling and happy. Almost all of these shows would have special episodes for Christmas, too. I don’t really like Christmas, but I liked the Christmas episodes. They were always the same. There were kids and parents and lots of presents, and everyone would take turns opening something and everyone stayed in their pajamas all morning. Everyone always looked so happy._

_That’s what I want. I want a Christmas morning like the ones you see on TV. I know it’s impossible to get that for someone for Christmas, but if you’re real, you can do it. If you’re not, then nothing changes for me. Even if I don’t get this, I know that this is going to be the best Christmas that I’ve ever had, not because of all the stuff I get, but because I have my mom._

_Thank you for taking the time to read this and have a Merry Christmas._

_Sincerely,_

_Henry Mills_

By the time she finishes the letter, there are tears in her eyes. She drops the letter into her lap and takes a long, deep breath. Slowly exhaling it, she looks to the stairs and her heart clenches as she thinks of Henry growing up, always feeling so alone and unwanted—and she understands exactly what that feels like. Folding up the letter, she tucks it back into the envelop and starts toward the stairs, her heart aching at the realization that she can’t make Henry’s Christmas wish come true because can’t make him feel something that he doesn’t feel—and she hopes that when he wakes up on Christmas morning, he isn’t too disappointed.

Pushing open his bedroom door, a grin pulls onto her lips. The light is still on, but Henry is sound asleep. His lips are parted and his head is turned into his pillow and he’s wearing his favorite Captain America pajamas, looking sweet and content that her heart swells with love for him. Flicking on the nightlight, she turns off his lamp, and then climbs into bed beside him. She wraps her arms around him and rests her head over his, holding him close and combing her fingers gently though his hair as he sleeps.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas in Storybrooke, and the Mills and the Locksley's celebrate.

“Knock, knock,” Robin’s voice calls as he pokes his head into her office—and almost immediately, a smile pulls across her lips. She waves him in as she gets up and rounds the desk, taking a few long strides toward him to take some of the bags he’s carrying. When she reaches him, he leans in and pecks her lips, and her breath catches in her chest as she blinks up at him, still not completely used to the subtle and common shows of affection. “Thank you,” he murmurs, stepping back as she takes one of the bags.

“When you said lunch,” she begins as she eyes the bags he’s holding. “I assumed… well… a couple of take-out containers from Granny’s not… enough food to feed the entire town.”

Chuckling softly, he nods toward the plastic bag at her fingertips. “ _That_ is take-out from Granny’s. This,” he adds, holding up the other bags, “is a little something to go with lunch.” He offers her a wink as he steps deeper into the office, kicking her door shut as he makes his way toward the couch. “Something to make it a little more fun.”

“Fun?”

“Fun,” he nods. “After all, you’re working on a day off.”  

Shifting toward him, her shoulders shrug. “Well, Henry had school and I… I hate being home alone.”

“You could have called me,” he says as he sets the bags down on the floor and begins rummaging through one. “I would have been glad to entertain you for the day.”

“You have to work.”

“At a store that I own,” he tells, grinning broadly as he brandishes a large flannel blanket. “I could have had someone else work for me. That’s the beauty of owning the store you work at.”

“A couple of days before Christmas?” She asks in a skeptical voice, raising her brow as he fans the blanket out on the floor. “I’m stunned that you were able to sneak away for lunch.”

“Well, then _you_ could have come to _me_.” 

“To you?”

“You could have come into the store,” he grins up at her as he smoothes the blanket on the floor. “As you just pointed out, we could have used all the help we could get this morning.”

“I hardly think I’m equipped to sell skis and hiking gear,” she tells him, looking down at her pencil skirt and three-inch heels. “I’m not exactly an authority on…”

“You could be an authority on anything,” he tells her. “All you’d have to is give any of my customers that look you give your secretary, and they’d buy whatever it is you were trying to sell them.”

Regina nods and sigh, bristling a bit uncomfortably at the assertion that people fear her and that Robin knows it—but she can’t say that it’s untrue or that fear hasn’t proven a useful tactic. “What are you doing down there?” She asks, shifting the subject as she leans up onto the tips of her toes, her eyebrows arching as he lifts a corkscrew from the bag.

 “Setting up our picnic,” he tells her as he works the corkscrew into the wine cork, “Which, I have to say, would be a lot nicer if you and our food were over here.” 

She laughs a little as she steps around the couch, grinning a little awkwardly as she kneels down on the blanket and he takes the bag. She tucks her legs underneath herself as he hands her a glass of wine, and when he smiles at her she feels her heart flutter.

“So, every year,” he begins as he opens the containers, “Roland and I have this little Christmas Eve tradition.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me about it.”

“Well, we rent a bunch of movies and we order Chinese food—sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, egg rolls are usually on the menu—and we cuddle up on the couch, watch the movies and eat until we’re sick.” He grins as he hands her a paper-wrapped sandwich. “And we were hoping that—as long as I can promise to have the two of you home by nine-thirty—you and Henry would be there this year.”

“Ahh…”

“I know you have big plans for Christmas day, but…”

“We’d love to,” she interjects as a smile pulls onto her lips. “Aside from the eating until we’re sick part, it sounds like a… wonderful evening.”

Robin grins as he dips a sweet potato fry into a little cup of ketchup. “Then its set,” he says, biting in the fry. “Any requests? Movies you want to see? Food you want to eat?”

“Surprise us.”

He nods, watching as he takes a bite of her sandwich—and once more, she feels her stomach flutter. He looks so pleased with himself, smiling at her with sparkling eyes, and she can almost see him planning their evening together. She smiles, too, thinking cuddling up in his arms and letting him hold her as a fire crackles and pops; she thinks of the boys struggling with their chop sticks and giggling at some cheesy holiday movie with an overly predictable plot, and she thinks about chaste stolen kisses and linger touches—and her heart almost aches in anticipation.

“What about you?” He asks, swallowing a large bite of his burger. “Any favorite traditions?”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “I… don’t really have any. I, um, haven’t ever celebrated.”

“I’m sorry, I shoud have realized that you…”

“It’s okay,” she interjects quickly. “Even… before… yuletide festivities were never something I participated in.”

“Not even as a girl?”

“Especially not as a girl,” she murmurs—and then, as the words leave her lips, there’s a flicker of memory that begins and has a smile pulling up from the corners of her mouth. “Well,” she says, smiling almost shyly as she looks down at her sandwich and plucks a piece of the crust from the bread. “There was this one time…”

“Tell me,” he urges in sweetly sincere voice.

“I… almost forgot about it,” she says, shaking her head as dabs the piece of crust against the sandwich, soaking up a little of the sauce. “I was seventeen and it was snowing…” She looks up and he smiles, watching her intently as if what she’s telling him is the most interesting thing he’ll ever hear, and for just a second, her voice catches in her throat. “Daniel, this boy who worked in the stables on my family’s estates…”

“The boy who loved you.”

She blinks, “Oh,’s right… you’ve read my story.”

“I’d still prefer to hear you tell it,” he says. “And I don’t believe this particular story made it into the book.”

Popping the piece of crust into her mouth, she nods as she remembers—and the smile stretches across her lips. “There was a snow storm and I snuck out to the stables because I thought my horse could use an extra blanket and… well… I was hoping to see him.”

“Did you?” 

She nods, “When I got to the stables, he was there. He was brushing Rocinante and he looked up at me, and he smiled and…” She sighs. “We ended up spending the entire night, laying on the hay bales up in the loft, telling each other ghost stories.” Shaking her head, she looks back to Robin. “We said we’d do it again the next year, but…”

“But there wasn’t a next year.”

“No…”  Her eyes sink closed for a moment as she thinks about the warmth of the stables that evening and the way it felt to have Daniel lying beside her. It had all been so innocent, so unrushed, and they’d really believed there would be a next year and year after that and another after that. They thought they had time. “That was a lifetime ago.”

“It was,” Robin replies as his hand slides over hers and she looks down, watching the way his fingers gently stoke over the back of her hand and when she looks up, his eyes are still soft and sincere and so full of love.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” she tells him. “I never thought I’d… find someone else who…” Her voice trails off and she sighs a little as she feels a lump rising in the back of her throat—and almost on instinct, Robin’s fingers wrap around her hand, giving it a reassuring little squeeze. “Who looks at me the way you do, who loves me the way you do.”

He lets out a little sigh. “I wish we’d have found each other sooner.”    

“It would never have worked,” she tells him, shaking her head. “You’d never have remembered…”

“But you would have.” Her brow creases and he takes a breath. “Can I ask you something? I’ve wanted to ask you this for awhile, but I wasn’t quite sure how or if you’d want to talk about it…”

“Okay,” she murmurs, shifting uncomfortably as she suddenly remembers her wine. Reaching for it, she takes a long sip. “Ask away.”

“What happens to my memories if the curse isn’t broken?”

“Oh,” she breathes out, hesitating for a moment. “Your memories aren’t permanent. They’d fade away, just like all the others… just like they always have.”

For a moment, he’s quiet—and her heart begins to beat a little faster as he stares out at the glowing fire. She takes a breath, reminding herself that he’s still rubbing at her wrist and he doesn’t look upset, and she reminds herself that her worrying is unjustified.   

“So, I’d have the chance to fall in love with you all over again,” he says finally, his smile brightening as their eyes meet. “I’d have loved to have that chance again and again and again…”

She lets out a breath as her throat tightens and she feels warm tears brimming in her eyes. “I… don’t understand how you’re so okay with all of this. With everything that I’ve done… the curse… and…”

“I’ll admit,” he begins in a tentative voice. “There was a part of me that was furious when I found out—but it was a small part. We all do things we regret, things we’re not proud of—and, when all is said and done, it wasn’t personal. You weren’t trying to hurt me or my son or anyone that I care about…” His voice trails off and he chuckles softly, shaking his head as he gives her hand yet another reassuring little squeeze. “I love you. I don’t care who you were or what you did because all of those things—the good and the bad—led us to this point we’re at right now. And, no matter what, I can’t be upset about that.”

Letting out a shaky breath she leans forward, dropping her sandwich back into the container and pushing her wine glass aside. Her fingers rub against the stubble on his cheeks and she offers him a tearful smile as she presses her lips to his, kissing him. One of his hands pushes into her hair as the other strokes against her hip as he kisses her back—soft and sweet at first, but with a building intensity. Her tongue slides against his and her heart beats a little faster as she begins to ease herself back, pulling him along with her. Robin shifts himself over her, as his lips pull away from hers, sliding against her jaw, and as her eyes flutter, she lets out a content little sigh.

“Madam Mayor, your…” Her secretary’s voice halts and Robin’s head lifts, his eyes widening a little as her secretary steps into to office. “Madam Mayor?” 

Regina feels her cheeks flush and she grimaces as she pushes Robin up, and she takes a deep breath as she sits up and smoothes her skirt then clears her throat. By the time her secretary’s eyes drift over to where she is, the color has drained from her cheeks and her gaze has hardened. “Yes?”

“Your one o’clock appointment is here.”

“I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“Oh, but you scheduled…”

“He’ll have to wait,” she cuts in, her voice cool and void of emotion. “Tell him it’ll be another ten minutes.”

“Of course, Madam Mayor,” the secretary says with a nod as she turns out of the office—and Robin pulls himself up, chuckling softly as he looks back to her with wide eyes.

“I am… so sorry,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing once again. “I completely forgot that I…”

“It’s okay,” he’s quick to say, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “As you pointed out, this is a busy time of year and I should be getting back to the store.”

“Right…”

“I’ll help clean up.”

“Thank you,” she replies, as they awkwardly get to their feet, collecting the wine glasses and half-eaten food. “Robin…”

“Really, its okay,” he tells her with a wink. “Call me if you need help getting things together for Christmas Day.”

“I… think I’ve got everything I need,” she says, bending to pull up the blanket. “But…”

“Call me anyway,” he tells her, taking the blanket and taking the chance to drop one last kiss onto her cheek. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

_____

A few hours later, she’s picking Henry up from school, and he’s bounding toward her, bright-eyed and smiling. The whole way home he chatters on about having two full weeks off—and when he hints at getting a vacation of math, she regretfully informs him otherwise. They have a quiet dinner of spaghetti and meatballs together and as they eat he tells her all about the Christmas bingo game they played and the carols they sang to the kindergarteners. Her smile warms as he tells her how he’d waved at Roland as they passed his classroom. Together they do the dishes and he claims again and again that he’ll be staying up far past his bedtime—but nonetheless, at nine thirty, his eye lids are drooping and she’s tucking him into bed, and he falls asleep before she even finishes the chapter of _The Chamber of Secrets_ they’d started.

She stays with him for awhile after he’s fallen asleep, holding him as she rubs his back. Breathing him in, she closes her eyes, not letting her thoughts wander too far away from the present moment, keeping herself from thinking of all the years she missed with him and reminding herself that they’re together now, and that’s what matters. She thinks about Henry’s letter—the letter he didn’t know that she’d read—and her heart aches thinking of her sweet little boy feeling hurt and forgotten on Christmas as the family who was supposed to love him celebrated. She pictures him standing there, alone in the crowded room, watching a family that was supposed to be his decorating the tree, leaving him out and barely noticing that he was there—and she hugs him a little tighter, wishing that her love could somehow take away the pain those memories hold for him.

Finally, she kisses the top of his head and carefully gets out of bed, adjusting the blankets up around his shoulders as she leans forward and presses another kiss to his forehead, telling him that she loves him. Retreating down the hallway to her own room, she quickly changes into pajamas and gets into bed. Reaching over, she pulls out Henry’s letter from the drawer on her bedside table, scanning it quickly and sighing, hoping that just this once Christmas morning wouldn’t bring him disappointment.

“Mom?” Looking up, she tucks the letter back into the drawer, smiling quizzically as Henry fidgets in the door way with _The Chamber of Secrets_ tucked beneath his arm. “Are you going to bed now?”

“I was going to,” she says, pulling back the covers and patting the empty space beside her. “But I don’t have to just yet.” Henry nods as he comes into the room, padding across the carpet to her bed. He climbs into bed with her and cuddles into her side, and she can’t help but smile as her arm folds around him. “You were sound asleep when I left you. Did you have a nightmare?”

“No…”

“Oh, then, what’s going on?”

“I just…” He sighs. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“I see,” she murmurs softly. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Not really.”

“Okay,” she says. “You can always change your mind about that, you know?”

“I know…” He blinks up at her. “But right now, I just really want to read what happens next. They’re about to find Tom Riddle’s diary and that’s a really good part.” Dipping her head down she presses a kiss to the top of Henry’s head as he cuddles closer and she opens the bookmarked page. Glancing down at him, she can’t help but smile at the way he lifts his chin to see the page as if he hasn’t already read this book before, as if it’s all new and exciting and full of wonder. Then, she clears her throat and begins to read—but almost as soon as she starts to say the first word, Henry’s voice cuts in. “I ran away more than once.”

She blinks as she looks from the book to Henry, her brow creasing as the book fall from her fingertips and into her lap.  
“Henry, what are you… talking about?”

“Last year, right about this time, I ran away,” he admits quietly “I thought that if I went away, they’d miss me.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, hugging him a little tighter. “Oh, Henry…”

“I got the idea from _Home Alone_ ,” he tells her. “Kevin gets left behind and when his family comes back, they’re so glad to see him that they don’t care that he totally destroyed their house.” He shrugs his shoulder as his eyes shift down, as guilt stabs at her heart. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And is it safe to assume things didn’t work out as you’d hoped?”

Henry nods. “Well, that time, I wanted to be found, so I went to a store and I stayed there until it closed.”

“What happened then?” She asks, pushing out her voice as she swallows the hard lump that’s formed in the back of her throat. “Did someone find you?”

“The lady who runs the store did and she called the police and…” Henry sighs as he looks up at her, blinking back his tears. “They called my foster family and they didn’t come to get me, so I had to go to this house with all these other kids living there…”

“A group home,” she murmurs as her hand rubs over his back.

“All of the kids who were there had done something bad, so they weren’t allowed to go home.” She watches as Henry’s lip catches between his teeth. “My social worker told the man who ran the house that I was on a slippery slope. He said that I’d probably be back because that’s how kids like me turned out.”

“Henry, no…”

“I wasn’t supposed to hear that,” he tells her in a barely audible voice. “I was eavesdropping, but… but sometimes… I think about that… about what he meant when he said ‘kids like me.’” For a moment, his voice fades away; but before she can say anything, before she can assure him that he was never the problem, that life had been unfair to him, he looks up at her with teary eyes. “Do you think that some people are just… born bad?”

“You are _not_ bad,” she says in soft yet firm voice, remembering the way his foster parents had used his failed adoption—her mistake—against him. “Do you understand that?”

Henry shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t… feel like I’m bad,” he tells her as brow furrows and he chews at his lip. “But…”

His voice trails off as Regina smoothes his hair and cups his head to her chest, holding him tightly against her. Her heart aches and her stomach churns as she thinks about where he was only a year before—desperate and lonely in a place he didn’t belong—and while she’s glad that his circumstances have changed, she knows the damage years of starving for affection can cause. “Evil isn’t born, Henry. It’s made,” she tells him in a soft voice as her lungs deflate—and she questions whether or not evil can ever truly be unmade. “And it can only be made if _you_ let it.”

“I’m just… really glad that I’m here now.” 

“I’m glad you’re here, too, Henry.”

“I wouldn’t run away now…”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she breathes out, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. “Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She watches as a small smile pulls onto his lips. “I ran away because I wanted a family,” he says almost matter-of-factly, as if he doesn’t realize just how heartbreaking that statement actually is. “But now, I have one—and I have a pretty great one.”

“You and I do have a pretty good thing going, don’t we?”

“I think so,” he tells her as he nuzzles against her. “Can… can I sleep here tonight?”

“With me?”

“Yeah…” He chews at his lip as his eyes cast upward. “If… that’s okay. I don’t have to.”

“Well what if I want you to?” She asks, squeezing him a little tighter into her side as she reminds herself that while there is nothing she can do about the past, there is something she can do about the future. So taking a short breath, she picks up the book lying in her lap and opens it to the dog eared page. “Now, where were we…”

_____

It’s mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve when Regina and Henry pull into Robin’s driveway, and before she’s even able to put the Henry is opening the door. A smile stretches onto her lips as Henry runs to Robin, who steps out onto the porch and lifts him off the ground, tossing him up in the air before hugging him close and setting him down inside—and then he jogs toward her.

He’s wearing a dark green thermal with little white snowflakes on it, a pair of jeans, and on his feet are a pair of moccasin slippers. He’s smiling brightly and she can see his blue eyes sparkling as nears, reaching out and taking the bag she’s holding. Robin presses a kiss to her cheek and she feels her stomach flutter a bit, unsure that anyone’s ever greeted her this way—looking so genuinely glad to see her.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks as he pulls away.

“Oh, well, presents, but I needed to get them into your house unnoticed, so there’s also a Lego set Henry thought he and Roland could work on and a couple of board games and…” She peers down into the bag and her brow creases. “And a Captain America fleece blanket, for a reason I can’t explain.”

Robin chuckles as he slides an arm around her, guiding her up the approach and into the house. Roland runs toward her, slamming into her legs a she wraps his arms around her. “Merry Christmas, Regina,” he says, pulling back and grinning broadly. “Look! I lost a tooth.”

“You did!” She exclaims, dropping down to his level and reaching out and turning his chin. “Look at that.” 

“Daddy said the tooth fairy might be delayed a day or so because of Christmas.”

“Is that so?” She asks, smirking as she looks at Robin, who only shrugs. “Did it hurt?”

“Nope!” Roland tells her, shaking his head. “I was wigging it with my tongue and it just popped out!”

“Cool,” Henry murmurs, leaning in and looking at the gap in Roland teeth. “Did you save the tooth?” Roland nods and a moment later the boys are running in the direction of Roland’s bedroom.

“So, the tooth fairy is on delay?” She asks, standing up and turning to Robin as a smirk stretches her lips.

As she stands, she pulls off her scarf and unbuttons her coat, and when she starts to shrug it off, Robin pulls it from her shoulders. “I can only handle one mythical being in one day,” he explains as he hangs the coat on the hook by the door and when he turns back to her, he chuckles softly as he looks her up and down. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans.”

Tipping her head to the side, her eyes narrow. “I’m not wearing jeans.”

“I know,” he says with a wink and a grin. “Do you even own a pair of… casual pants?”

“No. I’ve really had a need for them,” she murmurs, shifting as she looks down at her red cashmere sweater and trouser pants. “But this is… comfortable.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “Now, we have a couple of very important things to discuss before the boys return.”

“Oh?” She asks as her eyebrow arches. “Do we?”  

“We do,” he tells her, nodding as he grabs her hand, leading her from the living to the kitchen. There’s an open menu, a pen and notepad next to it, and she can see Robin has already began a list—and a smile tugs onto her lips at the realization that he’s including her in a favorite family tradition. “I’ve already selected a few things—like we always get egg rolls, egg drop soup and fried rice, then everyone gets to pick a main dish to share.” He pauses for a moment and she looks back at him, watching as his smile deepens. “I’ve already selected the Mongolian beef and vegetables and Roland’s requested the sweet and sour chicken.”

“That’s… a lot of food.”

“It is,” he nods with an excitement that’s nearly palpable. “So, you need to choose two dishes for you and Henry. Then we can order.”

“What you have listed already is more than enough to…”

Her voice trails off as his eyes narrow skeptically. “That’s that point—we order enough food to feed a small village and stuff ourselves silly until we—and by ‘we’ I especially mean an overly-excited six-year old—fall into a food come, and actually go to bed at a reasonable hour so that Santa can get in and out, unnoticed.”

“Ah,” she murmurs, chuckling softly as she looks back to the menu. “In that case, Henry likes Almond Chicken and… I think I’ll go with the Ma Po Tofu.” She grins back at Robin, who scribbles the order onto his note pad. “We could use something that’s not completely unhealthy… or something we can pretend isn’t.”

“If you can manage to get Roland to try tofu…”

“This sounds like a bet,” she laughs as she turns, leaning against the edge of the counter as her eyebrow arches. “And we both know I love a challenge.”

“Well then, let’s make it one,” Robin laughs, glancing up from the notepad, “If you can get my child to eat tofu, willingly… then I’ll…” His voice fades as he considers. “I’ll… owe you something.”

“I can work with that.”

“What will I owe you?”

“How about we leave that part to be determined? It’ll make it all the more interesting.”

“And if you fail…”

“Oh, but I won’t,” she says in a confident voice. “So we don’t have to worry about that.”

Robin rolls his eyes as he laughs. He reaches for the phone and just as he’s lifting it to his ear, Regina reaches out and touches her fingers to the back of her hand. “I… wouldn’t say no to some crab Rangoon.”

“Neither would I,” he chuckles as he leans in and pecks her lips—then hastily pulls back to place the order and she turns away from him, reaching into the cupboard to retrieve the paper plates and some napkins, before going into the living room to set up for their lazy day in.

_____

An hour later, they’re all sprawled out in the living room as _Back to the Future_ plays. There are plates of food in front of them all, a box of brightly colored Lego pieces between the boys just waiting to be played with, and blankets covering their laps—and when Robin’s arm stretches around her shoulders, she feels herself flooding with warmth. He drops a soft kiss against her jaw and she nuzzles against him.

“You’ll notice,” he whispers. “Roland has not touched the tofu.”

“Give it time.”

“You’re wrong about this one…”

“I am not,” she whispers back, nudging his side. “It’s just going to take a little time. I can’t just shove it into his mouth and force him to chew.” She grins. “You said he had to eat it willingly.”

“Well, you could try that, but… he may bite.”

She laughs as her eyes roll. “It’s just like the split pea soup…”

“You cheated with that,” he insists. “You covered that entire bowl with cheese.”  

“He ate it, didn’t he?”

Robin sighs. “Yes.”

“And in my defense, it was split pea with ham _and cheese_. That’s what the recipe called for.”

“The recipe called for an _entire_ bag of cheese on _one_ bowl?”

“It was only half of the bag,” she whispers back. “Now, shut up. We’re missing the movie.” She cuddles closer, resting her head on his chest, smiling as his hands rub slowly over her back and arm as she watches the boys stare wide-eyed at the TV screen as they nurse bowls of egg drop soup.

When the first movie ends, the second begins and in the handful of minutes that previews of other movies play, they take the opportunity to refill their plates. Henry goes first, taking a little spoonful of each entree before grabbing an egg roll and biting into it as he goes back to the living room and pushes aside the little Lego Merry-Go-Round he and Roland had been working on. She glances at Robin as Roland watches Henry and a grin tugs onto his lips as he leans onto the tips of his toes to look at the selections of entrees.

“Let me help you,” Regina says as he lifts Roland onto the counter, her grin warming as the little boy giggles. “You like the chicken, right?”

“Both kinds,” Roland tells her in a serious voice. “And the rice.”

From the corner of her eye, she watches as Roland watches her spoon some of the sweet and sour chicken onto his plate, followed by a spoonful of the almond chicken. “Do you like spicy things?”

Roland giggles again as he nods. “They make my nose runny and my cheeks warm.”

“So, do you want to try some of this?” She asks, dropping some rice into his plate and pointing the spoon at the Ma Po Tofu. “It’s kind of spicy.”

“What is it?”

“Tofu,” she tells him in an even voice.

“I’ve never had tofu,” Roland tells her, looking from the Ma Po Tofu back to her. “I don’t think I’ll like that.” Robin scoffs behind her and she reaches for a fork, as Roland looks behind himself to where Henry is sitting on the carpet, still pushing Lego pieces out of the way. “Does Henry like it?”

“He does,” Regina nods. “Do you want to try it?” She asks, stabbing her fork into a cube of tofu and gathering some sauce onto it. “Just a piece?” Roland hesitates and she can practically feel Robin’s skeptical gaze. “Just one, teeny, tiny little bite?” Roland chews at his lip as he stares at the cube of tofu. “You don’t have to have any more if you don’t like it. And this is a small piece,” she reminds him.

“What does it taste like?”

“Well,” Regina begins. “It’s chewy, kind of spongy…”

“Like candy?” Roland asks, his eyes lighting up. “That’s the reason I like gummy bears!”

“Kind of…”

“I don’t believe this,” Robin mutters under his breath from the other end of the kitchen—and she feels a slight thrill run through her.  

“It tastes like whatever it’s cooked with,” she explains, as Roland continues to consider, slowly reaching out and taking the fork from her. “If you don’t like it, you can spit it out.”

“What does the sauce taste like?”

Grinning, Regina dips her finger into the plastic container. “You tell me,” she murmurs as Roland’s eyes fall to the tip of her index finger—and hesitantly, he reaches out and swipes his own finger against hers. She watches as he licks his finger and then his eyes widen. “You like it,” she says, very matter-of-factly, stifling her urge to laugh as Robin scoffs again.

“Yeah!” He offers a nod as he takes the fork, biting into the tofu. His brow furrows as he chews. “It’s… not like gummy bears,” he tells her, blinking as he continues to chew. “But… it’s not bad either.”

“No?”

“No,” he confirms.

“Do you want a little bit on your plate?” Roland hesitates for a moment, licking his lips as he slowly nods. “How about we start with just a couple of pieces?”

“And a lot of sauce.”

“And a lot of sauce,” she agrees, drizzling the sauce over two pieces of tofu. She glances back at him and sets down the plate as he grins up at her and his feet begin to tap impatiently against the cupboard—and instinctively, she presses a quick kiss to his forehead as she lifts him off of the counter, setting him back onto the floor, then hands him his plate.

“I don’t believe this,” Robin murmurs as he watches Roland join Henry in the living room. “Where were you he was three and refusing to eat anything that didn’t contain something sweet?” He leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “And that was… absolutely adorable.”

“What was?”

“You and Roland.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as her cheeks flush. “Well…”

“He adores you, you know that, right?” Her breath catches in her chest as Robin’s hand slides over her hip, drawing her toward him. “We both do.”

“He’s easy to love,” Regina murmurs as she feels her cheeks flushing, not used to this sort of affection. “You’re not so bad either.”

“If I haven’t said it yet, we’re both really glad that you and Henry could be here today,” Robin tells her—and though it’s not the first time he’s said it, she smiles nonetheless as her heart flutters a little bit. “Even though we haven’t been together for very long, Christmas Eve wouldn’t have felt like Christmas Eve without the two of you here.”

She nods, looking over her shoulder at the boys who are giggling about something as they munch on their egg rolls. “I don’t think there’s anywhere else we’d rather be today.” Her cheeks flush a little as he presses a kiss to her cheek and his fingers fold down around hers and he tugs her gently toward the food. Eagerly, they load their plates once again before joining the boys in the living room just as the second _Back to the Future_ movie begins to play.

_____

Between the second and third movies, they take a break to play a couple of board games. Henry cuddles against her as they play Candy Land and Roland’s eyes widen with excitement as he announces that Professor Plum committed the murder with the revolver in the kitchen to win the game of Clue. They all laugh at Robin’s inability to remove organs from the body in a game of Operation and by the time they put the third _Back to the Future_ movie into the DVD player, its dark outside.

Her heart swells as both boys crawl up onto the couch with them—and she’s more than content to comb her fingers though Henry’s hair as Robin’s foot stokes lazily over her ankle as he cuddles Roland on his lap. When the credits roll, its nearly nine and both boys are nearly asleep. She offers Robin a regretful smile as she tells him that she and Henry should probably be going and Roland’s bottom lip pouts out as he looks between them.

Henry gathers up his two games, slowly putting the pieces back into their spots as Roland returns the Legos to the compartmentalized box that Henry keeps surprisingly tidy. Robin takes her hand, tugging her toward the kitchen and she sighs as they start to put away the leftover Chinese food.

“Do you want to take any of this home?” Robin asks as he presses the lid onto the Mongolian beef. “As you pointed out there’s more than enough…”

“No. I think we’re good,” she tells him. “Tomorrow morning, I’m waking Henry up with a Christmas breakfast and then we’ll put a turkey in the oven and make Christmas cookies and I am _positive_ there won’t be room in my refrigerator for any of this.”

He laughs a little. “So everything’s set for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I just need to set it all up and get it all together after he goes to bed.”

“Let me know if you need anything at the last minute.”

“I don’t think I will, but… I’ll let you know.” She grins, leaning onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss against his stubbly cheek. “Thank you for inviting us today.”

“Thank you for coming,” he murmurs as his arms fold around her. “Are you sure you can’t stay just a little longer?”

“I want to, but…”

“I know,” he sighs as they move toward the door, and both of them notice the snow brushed against the windowsill. “It looks like we got a little snow. I’ll clean off your car.”

“Oh you don’t have to…”

“Regina,” he blinks. “You don’t have boots and those socks are pretty much useless. I’m not going to sit inside my nice warm house and watch you freeze cleaning off your car.” Leaning in, he kisses her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

“If you must,” she grins as he reaches for his coat. “Oh, and I brought a second bag. The gifts are in there…”

He nods. “I’ll add them to the mountain in the closet.” She laughs as he pulls on his coat and opens the front door—and as soon as he does, her eyes widen. What they assumed was a dusting is well over a foot. She blinks a few times as she looks at Robin. “I… don’t think you’re going anywhere tonight.”

“No,” she murmurs, shivering as her eyes sink closed. “It doesn’t appear that way.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” She asks, opening her eyes as she turns to face him. “This… isn’t your fault. Snow wasn’t even in the forecast.”

“I know, but I invited you here and now you’re stuck…”

“Don’t apologize for that. Henry and I had a good time.”

“And that good time seems to have spoiled your plans for tomorrow.” He shrugs and offers her a lopsided grin. “And I know better than anyone how much effort you put into those plans.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him, sighing softly as she tries to decide if she’s disappointed or relieved. “Henry will have a nice Christmas, regardless of whether or not he has the Christmas morning that I planned for him.” She shrugs. “Quite frankly, anything is better than what he’s used to.”

“I know, but… he deserves a little Christmas magic.”

She nods. “Well, we’ll see what we can salvage.” A smile pulls onto her lips. “Beside, today felt pretty magical.”

“It did, didn’t it?”

She laughs a little as she watches Henry push his finger against the little Lego carousel as Roland giggles. “So,” she begins, stepping into the living room. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”

Henry and Roland look up at her as Robin steps up beside her. “It looks like everyone is staying put,” Robin tells them, watching as the boys exchange grins. “You two should go check out why,” he says, nodding toward the window.

She laughs as the boys rush forward, soft murmurings of awe escaping them as they crane their necks to see the fresh blanket of snow—and a smile tugs onto her lips and once again, her heart warms. She watches as Robin joins them, lifting Roland onto his lap, as his hand slides against Henry’s back. He leans in and whispers something to them—and before she even has time to wonder, the boys are cheering as they pull on coats and boots and gloves.

Standing in the window, she watches as Robin and the boys run though the snow. Henry and Roland skip and twirl through it, catching snowflakes on their tongues and kicking the loose fluffy snow at each other as they play. Robin lifts them both up, dropping them into a snowy bank and they laugh out, red-cheeked and all smiles as they make snow angels. Regina hugs her arms around herself, shivering a little as she smiles—wondering if perhaps this isn’t a better Christmas than the one she’d planned.

_____

It’s nearly ten-thirty when the boys climb into bed. Robin pulls out the trundle underneath Roland’s bed as Regina finds some extra blankets. Robin gives Henry a pair of pajamas—one of his old shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were given to Roland but are still too big for him—and within moments of laying down, both boys are asleep.

“You know,” Robin begins. “I lost that tofu bet.”

“Yes,” Regina nods. “Yes, you did.”

“But you never told me what it is that I owe you.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as a smile pulls onto her lips. “I think there’s a little mistletoe in that bag I brought—compliments of Granny and Ruby—we could test that out.”

“I think that sounds fair,” he says, chuckling softly as he turns off the over head light, letting the tree light the room. “Perhaps in a little while we should do that.”

“In a little while?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “First, there’s… something I want to give you.”

“Ah…” A grin pulls onto her lips. “I have something for you, too.”  Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she goes to the door and rummaging through her bag, finally pulling out a metallic green package with a red and gold bow on top of it, and when she turns, Robin is holding a similarly shaped package wrapped in blue and silver. “It looks like we had similar ideas,” she tells him as she steps toward him.

“It does,” he nods.

“I want to go first,” she tells him, handing him the gift as they sit together on the couch, their knees just barely touching. She watches as he tugs at the ribbon, and her stomach flutters nervously. “I… didn’t quite know what to get you,” she confesses. “I’ve never actually bought a Christmas present for anyone.”

“I am honored to be your first gift-recipient,” he says grinning up at her as he rips the paper—and his breath catches in the back of his throat as he catches his first glimpse of _The Legend of Robin Hood_. Blinking up at her, he pulls away the rest of the wrapping paper, then looks back to the book. The cover is crimson leather with gold leaf lettering on the front and on the spine, and the edges of the pages are also trimmed in gold.

“I never quite understood why I enjoyed that book so much,” she murmurs, chewing at her lip as Robin opens the cover, his fingers brushing over one of the water colored illustrations of Robin Hood—of himself—standing in the woods, drawing an arrow from his quiver as a Royal carriage passes. “There’s, um, more at the end of the book.”

He looks up at her, immediately turning the book over, and opening the back flap to find a little book made from white cardstock—something she’d asked Henry to make. Henry had happily obliged, not questioning why. There were a few stories about their Tuesday night dinners and one about a day trip to the park, and another about an adventure Henry and Roland had in Robin’s store. The final story was about Roland’s birthday and each story was accompanied by a hand-drawn picture

“Regina, this is…”

“You like it?” 

“I… can’t even tell you how much,” he nods. “I love this.”

“I… don’t know how accurate it is.” She takes a breath. “Authors have… taken some liberties with our stories.”

He smiles, looking back at the book. “It’s strange,” he begins, “Thinking of myself as some sort of legendary hero because that’s not at all how I view myself.” She nods, taking a breath as she thinks that it’s less strange to think of herself as the Evil Queen and the villain of most stories. “What’s this?” He asks, noticing a ribbon in one of the pages.

“Um, one story that I… I really enjoy.”

“Oh?” She nods and holds her breath as Robin turns to the page and his eyes fall to the illustration of Robin Hood marrying a raven-haired Queen. “Regina…”

“I know that’s not a real story and that never happened, but…” She shrugs, thinking of the night she’d gone to his tavern, thinking of how fear had over taken her and she’d run away. “Maybe in another life or in another story, we were meant to be together…”

“Maybe in this story,” he tells her in a sincere voice as he smiles warmly.

“Yeah,” she nods, a small smile pulling onto her lips. “Maybe.”

He takes one last glance at book. “I… don’t think I can top this.”

“Try,” she murmurs, grinning as he extends a gift to her, laughing a little awkwardly as she starts to tear away the paper, revealing a brown leather-bound book with a feather embossed on the front.

Her eyes shift to his as she pulls away the rest of the gift wrap. “It’s a blank journal,” he tells her, taking a small breath. “I saw the cover and, thought of you.” She nods, opening it and looking down at the blank pages. “I know you think of yourself as this terrible villain who doesn’t deserve the happiness she’s found, but…” His voice trails off as she takes a breath, feeling a lump forming at the back of her throat. “Undoubtedly, the coming year is going to be rough on you, but you deserve to tell your side of the story, to write a new story for yourself where you get to be the hero.”

“I’m hardly a hero.”

“I beg to differ,” he murmurs gently, as his hand slides over her knee. “And I think your son would, too.” She looks up at him, swallowing hard as her jaw tightens. “Your story isn’t complete and there’s more good in you than you believe.”

She takes a breath and her voice fails her. She wants to tell him that he doesn’t know her well enough to make that judgment or that he’s looking at her life through rose colored glasses or that the person she’s let him see isn’t who she truly is—but she can’t bring herself to say any of that because she’s not sure that it’s true.  “Thank you for… saying that,” she says instead. “For believing that.”

He gives her knee a little squeeze. “I, um, have something else for you,” he says, reaching into his pocket. “An eleven dollar journal couldn’t be the only thing I gave you, so…” She watches as he pulls out a flat rectangular box. “So, I spent a little time in the Cliché Gifts Men Buy their Girlfriends for Christmas section of the department store and…”

“You got me jewelry,” she cuts in as grin forms on her lips and lump at the back of her throat shrinks. “Aw.”

“I did get you jewelry,” he confesses, watching as she slips her fingers beneath the seam of the blue and silver wrapping. “The boys helped me pick it out.” Her eyes widen a little as she rips off the paper and opens the box, revealing a gold charm bracelet. She blinks up at him as a smile pulls onto her lips and then she looks back at the charms. “I… realize that you don’t wear bracelets, but…”

“There’s an apple charm,” she murmurs, as her fingers touch the tiny golden apple.

“Yes,” he tells her as she lifts the bracelet from the box. “The apple because you’re…”

“A little obsessed with them?” She asks, arching an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be the first to tell me that.” She looks back to the bracelet, counting six charms on the gold links. The apple, a crown, a tree of life, and two different heart charms—one is a small heart nested inside of a larger one, which he explains represents her and Henry, and the second is a solid heart with an arrow going through it to represent the two of them. The final charm is a little watch face and when her fingers touch to it, she looks up at him.

“To make it a bit more practical,” he explains as a smile tugs onto his lips. “And as a reminder that everything happens when it’s supposed to happen, when the timing is right.” 

Her breath catches as she feels a rush of emotion. Reaching out, she slides her hand up over his jaw, rubbing her fingers over his cheek as she offers him a teary and thankful smile. She leans in and he meets her the rest of the way. Her tongue parts his lips as she kisses him, and he kisses her back, sliding his tongue against hers. It starts off slow and sweet, but it’s not long before urgency takes over and their breath begins to grow ragged. He pulls his lips away from hers and before she can even feel a flicker of disappointment, his lips are sucking at the crook of her neck.

His breath is warm and his touch is soft and she offers him a contented sigh as her head falls back and her eyes close.

“We forgot the mistletoe,” he murmurs, earning a giggle in reply.

“It’s here in spirit…”

Pulling back, a coy little smile stretches across his lips. “You know, the boys are sound asleep…”

She nods, “You’re right. They are.”

“Which leaves us all alone to entertain ourselves…”

“Right again…”

“Do you want to… continue this in the bedroom?”

“The bedroom…”

“Only if you want to,” he’s quick to say. “We could always stay out here and… have the sort of fun that wouldn’t be… absolutely mortifying if the boys were to come out here and stumble upon us.” He grins. “Only slightly mortifying.”

She nods as she eases herself away from him, standing up and holding out her hand. “I think I’d prefer the sort of fun that should happen behind closed doors.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nods, wiggling her fingers a bit impatiently and smiling as he takes her hand.

They walk toward the back bedroom and her stomach flutters as he closes the door, smiling as he reaches for her. He pulls her up against him, kissing her deeply as her fingers tug at his shirt. Stepping back, he pulls it off and undoes the button of his pants, grinning broadly as she watches him. She takes a breath as she pulls her sweater off and she can’t help but smile when his lips part and his eyes linger on her black lace bra.

“I am suddenly very aware that, contrary to what I once though, I haven’t done this in almost thirty years,” he says a bit sheepishly. “And suddenly, I am very nervous.”

“Don’t be,” she insists, reaching for his hand and tugging him over to the bed. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re… already doing a lot better than anyone I’ve been with.” He smiles almost sadly as he squeezes her hand—he lets out a shaky breath as he watches her step out of her slacks.

She takes a few steps in, feeling her heart beating faster and faster as she slides her hands around his hips and pushing at the denim that surrounds them. He swallows hard as her hands tug down his jeans and momentarily, he’s immobilized by her touch as the pants fall around his ankles and her hands slide against the thin layer of cotton that separates his skin from hers.

Then, a moment later he steps out of them as she leads him to the edge of the bed. She sits down and lays back, her heart pounding as he places a knee onto the bed, leaning to kiss her again.

_____

Robin drops a kiss onto her bare shoulder and a smile pulls onto her lips. She glances up at him, her cheeks flushing a little as his and slides over her bare stomach as it rumbles.

“We should do this again,” he teases tongue flicks against her earlobe. “And again… and again…”

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself,” she sighs, enjoying the tingling sensation his lips create on her skin. “I still haven’t completely… come down from my last high.”  Her stomach rumbles again, but she ignores it as her hand reaches up and her fingers push into his hair. “And this is also nice.”

“You’re hungry,” he murmurs as his lips slide to her jaw. “Do you want to…”

“I don’t want to move an inch right now.”

He laughs against her skin as his lips brush against her clavicle. “It’s Christmas morning,” he tells her.

“Is it?” She asks, picking up her head and looking toward the clock on his nightstand. “I suppose that means it’s time for Santa’s delivery.”

“I’m afraid so,” he murmurs, sitting up beside her. “Though, I would love to resume this once all of the presents are underneath the tree.”

She laughs softly, leaning to peck his lips. “Well, if we have to get up, I definitely think some Ma Po Tofu is in my immediate future.”

She grins as he gets out of bed—smiling appreciatively at the view as she tosses her legs over the side of the bed and reaches for the green thermal he’d been wearing earlier. She pulls it on as he tugs on a pair of pajama bottoms, and she combs her fingers through her hair as he turns with a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts in hand—and she grins as his lips part and his jaw drops open.

“Is… that my shirt?”

“Casual enough for you?” She asks, watching as his eyes trail down to where the shirt sits mid-way up her thigh and she laughs as he drops the t-shirt and shorts back into the drawer and reaches for her.

“You look cute in snowflakes,” he tells her, pressing a too-quick kiss to her lips as his fingers fold around her hand.

They pad down the hallway and into the kitchen, filling a plate with leftovers for them to share. She puts away the containers as he pops the plate into the microwave, and she gasps in surprise as his hands find her waist and lift her onto the counter. Laughing out, she leans in, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kisses him and his hand slide up the sides of her thighs and beneath the hem of his shirt.

The microwave sounds and he pulls back reluctantly, sighing as he turns away from her to retrieve their plate. She smiles, turning her head to watch them—and then her heart warms as she notices Roland and Henry asleep underneath the tree.

“Robin,” she murmurs as her hand falls onto his arm. “Look…”

His gaze follows hers and he takes a step forward as she slides off the counter. His arm forms around her waist and for a moment, they just stand there, watching. Four little feet stick out from underneath the tree and the colorful lights reflect on the boys’ faces. Their eyes are closed and their hands are folded behind their heads, both of them looking so innocent and serene.

“Roland loves to lay under the tree and look at the lights…”

“That’s so cute…”

“It really is,” he agrees with a nod. “He must have wanted to show Henry.” Her smile deepens as Robin presses a quick kiss to her hair. “Roland idolizes him, you know.”

“I’ve noticed,” she admits quietly, unable to pull her eyes away from them. “And Henry really loves him.”

“Almost like a brother.”

“Almost,” she nods.

Robin sighs as he pulls away from her, carefully walking toward the boys. He slides a hand under Henry, lifting him slowly and holding him against his shoulder, then scooping up Roland and settling him on the other side. Regina follows as Robin walks toward Roland’s bedroom and she hovers in the doorway as he gently sets them down. Roland goes first, and then Henry and he draws the blankets up around both boys, bending as he presses a soft kiss to each of their foreheads—and she takes a breath as tears well up in her eyes.

Robin smiles as he turns back to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He turns off the light and closes the door behind him, and together they walk back to the kitchen. They both pick at the Ma Po Tufu and fried rice, chatting about nothing as they eat. Regina places the plate in the sink before following Robin back into the bedroom where he pulls out two large, overflowing bags full of gifts—and she teases him about having teased her about the number of presents she bought that season. Together they arrange them underneath the tree, tucking the bags into the closet, before settling in an arm chair together. She’s sitting on his lap with her legs over the arm of the chair and his arms folded loosely around her—and there’s such a quiet contentment about the moment.

She glances from the tree to the mantle, noticing a framed photograph of Robin and a pregnant Marian—and she feels a rush of emotion that she can’t quite describe. It takes only a moment for Robin to notice her gaze and when does, he hugs her a little tighter.

“She was beautiful,” Regina murmurs, looking back at him.

“She was,” he agrees. “It’s funny—I never realized how lucky I was to have that picture.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she died before the curse, so if it weren’t for the curse, I’d never again be able to see her smile and Roland would have never known that he has her mother’s eyes.”

Regina swallows and nods, again focusing on the picture and the people in it. The memory captured in that picture never really happened and she wonders how that works and how he feels about it, and she makes mental note to ask him about it another time. She stares at Marian’s smile for a moment, suddenly so curious about the woman Robin had a loved so dearly—and then she wonders if the painful memories of her death were the fabrication of the curse she created. “Robin,” she murmurs after a few minutes. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Ask away.”

“How did Marian die?”

“I told you,” he murmurs in a soft voice. “She died during child birth.”

Closing her eyes, she hesitates for a moment, then turns her head to face him. “I know, but what I meant is… is that how she really died? Or… is that what the curse let you believe?”

“Oh…”

“Robin, did… I…”

“No,” he cuts in quickly, offering her a reassuring little smile. “Late in her pregnancy, Marian got sick. I tried to save her—I tried in vain to save her—but I couldn’t. I even broke into the Dark One’s castle to steal this wand that could supposedly cure her and the baby, but,” he shakes his head, “It only worked on one of them.”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out—feeling guilty for the relief she feels that Marian didn’t die at her hand. “I’m so sorry, Robin.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers quietly. “It took a long, long time, but I’ve finally made peace with what happened and I can, at the very least, smile at the happy memories that I have with her.”

She nods and cuddles closer, still unable to describe what it is she’s feeling. After that, neither of them says much and they spend most of their time in silence, just staring at the tree—and she’s barely aware that her eyes keep closing for longer and longer periods of time, and she’s even less aware of Robin’s arm sliding underneath her knees as he lifts her and carries her back into the bedroom.

_____

Robin and Regina hastily tie on robes as they hear the boys out in the living room, Roland excitedly declaring that Santa’s come as Henry giggles. Regina pulls Henry back into her legs, laughing softly as Roland bounces toward the tree and Robin stoops down beside him and hands his son a box, then picks up a second box.

“Henry,” he says, looking up with a grin. “This one’s for you.”

“For me?” Robin nods and Henry looks back at Regina, who smiles encouragingly as she gently pushes him forward. “Really?”

“Really,” Robin nods. “Santa must have known that you guys were snowed in here,” he adds with a wink. “I’m willing to bet there’s a few more presents for you underneath the tree.” 

Her heart flutters as she watches Henry take the present. His small fingers rub against the shiny paper and she watches him smile as he slowly tugs at the ribbon around it. Robin stands up and his arm slides around her and his smile widens as he watches Henry rips away the paper.

“Oh my gosh!” Henry exclaims, looking up at them with wide eyes. “A light saber!”

“Mine too!” Roland adds, ripping away the wrapping paper from his box. “So cool!”

“Thank you,” Regina murmurs, glancing at Robin. “I’m really glad that he has something to open… and… you didn’t have to…”

“Of course I did,” Robin cuts in. “There’s no way I wasn’t getting him a few things, regardless of where he spent Christmas morning. Besides, how could I get _just one_ light saber?” She rolls her eyes and laughs, shaking her head as Roland grabs for another gift—and Henry stares down at the light saber, blinking back tears. Roland hands him another box, excitedly telling him that his name was on that one too. “And I know that you got Roland a couple of gifts…”

“Yeah…” She smiles, nodding toward a box wrapped in shimmery Batman paper. “The Harry Potter books in a box set,” she whispers. “And a wand… and a stuffed owl… and a cape…” She laughs, having proved his point. “And… Lego set.”

“See?”

She laughs again and nods, watching as Henry opens his second gift—which turns out to be a plastic bow and arrow set that he deems to be just like Hawkeye’s. Her eyebrow arches as he looks to Robin, who only kisses her again, before joining the boys in the floor in a mess of wrapping paper.

The four of them enjoy a lazy morning. The boys play with new toys—their eyes lighting up just as brightly as their light sabers do—and by eight o’clock, Roland is asleep in a pile of wrapping paper, holding onto his stuffed Hedwig as Henry lays against her on the couch. Robin is in the kitchen making breakfast for them all, and she can’t help but feel relaxed.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned your first Christmas in Storybrooke,” she says as she hugs Henry a little closer.

“That’s okay,” he replies, turning his head and grinning up at her. “This was pretty great.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Henry says with a nod and a content sigh. “I’m glad we got to spend at least part of Christmas with Robin and Roland. They’re kind of like our family.”

“I’m glad we got to spend it with them, too,” she tells him, being to press a kiss to his hair. “And when we get home, we can do our own thing. Though… I’m going to need a few minutes to set everything up.”

“If it involves more presents, I am _very_ okay with that.” She laughs and nods, watching as Robin moves around the kitchen and the smell of cinnamon wafts through the air. “I’ve already gotten more than what I wanted.”

“Really?” She asks, peering down at him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly. “I… didn’t tell you this, but… all I really wanted is a Christmas like the ones I’ve seen on TV.” He looks back at her and grins. “You know, the scene where the kids wake up before the parents and there are tons of gifts underneath the tree and everyone is smiling and happy and… a real family.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s kind of how this last night and this morning felt.” Henry giggles, “Roland’s even sleeping on top of all the unwrapped presents, just like the littler sibling does in all the Christmas movies.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “It was kind of like that.”

“It was really nice,” he confesses, pressing closer to her. “It was perfect, actually.”

Her heart flutters as she looks up at Robin and she grins teary eyed in his direction—and she thinks of the letter that Henry doesn’t know she read. She feels a rush of emotion and she takes a long, deep breath as she tries to keep even her happy tears at bay.

Regina’s pulled out of her thoughts by Robin’s voice as he announces that the cinnamon roll waffles are done. He wakes up Roland as she and Henry move toward the kitchen table and the boys fall into an easy conversation of what they’ll play with first—an item that is ever-changing—and what they can’t wait to use and when they’ll use it. They rehash the gifts they can’t believe they actually got or that it snowed or how much fun they all had together between large bites of waffles—and all the while she stays quiet, not quite knowing how to thank Robin for helping her to give her son a gift that she couldn’t possibly have given him alone.

______

After breakfast, she and Henry get dressed and Robin helps her to pack up Henry’s gifts. He clears the snow off of her car and in the process offers to drive them home again and again, noting that his truck would be safer given the road conditions, but she declines, making a quip about Storybrooke’s Road Commission having hell to pay if the roads aren’t already cleared, but promising to let him know that they’ve arrived home safely. He laughs as she leans, and kisses his cheek, thanking him for everything—and after everyone has said their goodbyes, she and Henry drive home.

Storybrooke looks like something you’d see on a Christmas card, and she can’t help but smile at the way Henry looks out the window as they drive down Main Street, looking at the short strip of town as though it’s the first time that he’s seeing it.

When they get home, he takes the bag from her, hauling it onto the porch as she fumbles with the lock and before she pushes the door open, she turns to him.

“Alright, so I didn’t set anything up before we left yesterday, so it’s going to take me a few minutes to bring down all the presents.” Henry nods easily and she pushes open the door. “So, while I do that, why don’t you take those presents upstairs and… brush your teeth and clean up a bit.”

“Okay,” he agrees stepping into the house and dropping down the bag. “I have to go up to my room and get your present anyway.”

“You got me a present?” She asks, genuinely surprised as he pulls off his coat. “That was sweet of you.”

“Of course, I got you something,” Henry tells her, kicking off his boots and grabbing the bag as he jogs up down the stairs and out of the foyer. “I wanted to…” She looks up as she hangs up her coat and his voice halts. “Whoa!”

Regina’s brow creases as she meets Henry in front of the living room, and then her own eyes widen. “How in the world…” The tree is lit and the presents that she left in her closet are scattered underneath the tree. The lights from the tree make the packages sparkle, and she watches in awe as Henry runs forward—and she doesn’t understand how it’s possible.

“I thought you said the presents were upstairs,” he says, turning back to her with wide and wondering eyes. “How did you do this? The tree wasn’t even on when we left!”

“I… I don’t know,” she murmurs in disbelief as she joins him.

“Wow…” Her heart flutters as Henry drops down in front of a mound of presents, slowly reaching out and selecting a box that’s wrapped in brown craft paper. She grins as she notices that hand-drawn Christmas trees on it, and he turns to her. “Even my present for you is here!”

“That’s… incredible,” she murmurs, swallowing hard as she tries to understand.

“Open it!”

“Okay,” she nods, taking a breath and telling herself that it doesn’t matter how this has happened because the look on Henry’s face is exactly what she’d hoped for. “You want me to open it now?”

“Yes!” She laughs as little as she sits on the arm of the couch, carefully unwrapping the present so that she doesn’t rip the paper. Her breath catches when she pulls opens the cardboard box, showing a double-sided frame. “Open it!” Henry urges as her finger slips beneath the cardboard flap—and as soon as she sees the first picture, her eyes flood with tears.

“Oh Henry,” she murmurs as she looks down at the two pictures side-by-side—her eyes shifting between a picture they took together they day that his adoption was finalized and the picture of her holding him as a baby that she’d kept tucked away in the shoebox at the back of her closest. She looks up at him, unable to find her words, and he’s grinning, obviously proud of himself for giving her a present that obviously means so much to her. “This is wonderful,” she says, dropping the frame into her lap as she pulls him into a tight hug.

“Mom,” he murmurs after a few minutes. “You’re squishing me.”

“I don’t care,” she tells him, laughing softly as she hugs him even tighter.

“Mom…”

“Okay, fine,” she breathes out, letting him go and immediately picking up the frame to look at it again.

“I just… thought that picture should be out.” She nods and smiles as she bats away her falling tears. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I _love_ it,” she says, once more reaching for him and pulling him back into a looser hug. “And I love _you_.”

“I love you, too,” he giggles.

Taking a long breath, she lets him go, hugging the frame to her chest as she leads him back to the tree, stooping down and  handing him the first of several gifts. Henry smiles as he takes it—and then, from the corner of his eye, he sees the popsicle stick reindeer ornament with a red pom-pom nose and plastic wiggly eyes, with his name printed in gold letter. His breath catches and his eyes widen—and smile pulls onto her lips as he reaches for it and takes it off of the tree. His mouth drops open and tears fill his eyes as notices the little paper note she’d attached to one of the popsicle stick antlers-- _Merry Christmas, Henry. I’m sorry this is so late, but better late than never, right?_ , it reads. His hands shake as he looks from the note to her—and then, in the distance, they hear the clock tower on Main Street strike noon.

She holds her breath as her stomach tightens and her heart swells, and Henry looks to the window and then back to her, not realizing the significance of the clock and not realize it’s moving because he believes. Taking a deep breath, he hangs the reindeer ornament back on the tree, and opens the first of many gifts and neither of them yet notice the storybook that’s sitting on the coffee table.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Years Day comes and goes, and it’s time for Regina to start focusing on breaking the curse; meanwhile, Roland gets sick and Henry get starts to get a little curious about certain fairy tale characters and his birth mother.

Regina’s eyes close as a slight yawn escapes her and Robin presses a preemptive New Year’s kiss to her temple. Her eyes flutter back open and she looks over at him, smiling gently as the pre-celebration of _Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years_ plays. She shakes her head as her eyes shift to Roland, sitting on Robin’s lap with hooded eyes, watching for a moment as the little boy struggles against himself to stay awake another ten minutes to see the New Year arrive. A soft chuckle rattles in Robin’s chest as he nods down at Henry and when she follows his gaze, a smile pulls onto her lips. Henry’s cheek is pressed against her leg, his eyes are closed and he’s completely unaware of her fingers stroking through his hair.

“Hey,” she murmurs in a loud whisper as her hand rubs up and down his side. “You’re going to miss it?” 

“Hmm?” Henry asks as his head tilts up. “What am I going to miss?”

“The New Year,” Regina says with a small laugh behind her words.

“Yeah,” Roland adds in a groggy voice. “You don’t want to miss the New Year.”

“But tomorrow morning will still be New Years.”

“He… makes a good point,” Robin says as his eyebrows furrow. “An excellent point, actually.”

“But staying up late is so fun,” Roland says, pouting out his bottom lip as it quivers with a yawn.

Regina shakes her head as a smile pulls onto her lips. “You two certainly seem to be enjoying it.”

“Yeah… things are really getting wild her.”  

Regina laughs as Roland starts to reply, but instead of words another yawn escapes him and Robin hugs him back against his chest, peppering kisses against his cheeks and making him giggle and squirm as Henry rolls onto his side and cuddles against her. And when her eyes shift back to the TV and she watches the time ticking down in the corner of the screen, her chest clenches and her jaw tightens—because in eight minutes, she’ll have to give up the happy little bubble they’ve all been living in and turn her attention to doing the impossible and breaking the curse… and hopefully not pushing her son away in the process. Taking a breath, she looks back to Henry, watching as he rubs at his eyes and then, she glances to Robin and Roland—and its only then that she realizes that for the first time since coming to Storybrooke, she’s actually happy… and she’s not ready for that to end.           

That morning she and Henry had awoken early and finished _The Chamber of Secrets_ —and then, over chocolate chip pancakes, they read the first four chapters of _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ —which, as of now, Regina had to admit was her favorite of the series. At that, Henry had smiled a little sadly and patted her shoulder as he warned her not to get too attached to Sirius Black. She’d laughed a little and nodded, promising not to as she cuddled him closer and turned the page to continue on to chapter five.   

 After a cozy morning of cuddling on the couch with the book, they’d met Robin and Roland in the park where the boys played in the snow. They had a snowball fight and they built a fort—which they quickly knocked down—and all the while she and Robin sat on a nearby bench. He’d pulled her legs over his lap and wrapped his arms around her and even though she wasn’t cold, she couldn’t help but cuddle into his side and enjoy the way his hands would rub over her back. After a couple of hours, they’d ended up at Granny’s for lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup—and a grin had stretched over Robin’s lips as he suggested that after lunch, they go back to the park to ice skate on the frozen pond. Henry and Roland immediately nodded, but she’d hesitated, using the excuse of not owning a pair of ice skates as a reason not to participate. Robin’s grin turned coy as reminded her that he owned a sporting goods store and her problem could easily be remedied. And when she’d almost sheepishly admitted that she didn’t know how to skate, his grin brightened, he promised that he’d hold her and wouldn’t let her fall.

Her cheeks had flushed and she’d nodded—and an hour later, the four of them were walking out of Robin’s shop and she was holding a bag with a brand new pair of ice skates in them.

Henry giggled as she laced up the skates and he assured that it was just like riding a bike and she’d get the hang of it in no time—and then, he’d leaned in, asking in a hushed voice if she knew how to ride a bike. Her lip caught between her lips and his eyes widened at the realization that she didn’t, and his head shook as his hand fell to her knee and he told her he had so much to teach her. At that, Robin chuckled softly and pulled her up and led her onto the ice. She watched as the boys twirled and chased each other, all the while trying to figure out how to get her feet to push her forward. As promised, Robin held onto her, never once letting her fall despite her shaky legs and wobbly knees—and by the end of the afternoon, it didn’t matter that she could barely hold herself upright because her cheeks hurt from smiling and her lungs hurt from laughing; and, every now and then, when she looked at the people around her, in spite of everything that brought them to this moment—in spite of curses and poor choices, in spite of all the loss and insecurity—everything had brought them to this moment, and though she wouldn’t dwell on it for very long, she couldn’t help but think it was all worth it.            

After skating, they’d all ended up at her house—Robin and Roland with overnight bags in tow—and the boys spent the rest of the daylight hours sitting at one end of the kitchen counter with pages from Roland’s new Harry Potter coloring book and a box of Henry’s art supplies between them. And as she and Robin started dinner a conversation that began as casual conversation about which houses at Hogwarts they’d all be sorted into quickly went turned intense. Then, before any of them knew what was happening, Henry was running off to his room to print quizzes for them to take and when he retuned with four copies in hand, the cooking and coloring was put on hold. Robin finished his quiz first, proudly announcing that he was a Gryffindor, despite not really know what that meant and Regina couldn’t help but smile as he beamed at Henry when he too announced he’d been sorted into Gryffindor. Regina’s lip caught between her teeth as she struggled through the questions, nonetheless smiling as Henry helped Roland read though his quiz—and before she was even half way done, Roland had his answer and he was part of Hufflepuff. All eyes fell to her as she continues with her quiz, trying to decide which of the many sides of her fell where and what piece of her personality would prevail. She took a breath, hesitating before choosing her last answer and she could feel Henry watching her pencil move as she tallied up her score—and she felt an odd sense of relief, and even pride, when the quiz sorted her into Ravenclaw.   

Once it was all settled, she and Robin went back to preparing dinner and the boys went back to coloring, but their conversation remained the same—and she felt an odd sensation stirring at her core as they discussed magical classes and spells and potions. Leaning in, Robin pressed a quick and slightly reassuring kiss to her cheek, offering a wink as he pulled back to slide their pizza into the oven—and she wondered if he sensed what she was feeling.    

After dinner, Robin and the boys made a fort by the fire, and they’d practically dragged her inside of it to make s’mores with them. Henry and Roland laughed as they pulled sticky marshmallows from their skewers and Roland was quick to sneak extra pieces of the chocolate bar, looking up at Robin with wide and guilty eyes and then smiling victoriously when Robin pulled him into his lap, not seeming to notice the extra pieces of chocolate smashed between marshmallows and graham crackers. Henry leaned back against her, cuddling into her side as he licked gooey marshmallow from his fingers and asked what Hogwarts classes they’d want to take most. Robin’s brow furrowed as he glance between them all—and she laughed as Henry took a deep breath as thought temper his disbelief as he patiently began to list choices—care of magical creatures, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, ancient runes, potions, history of magic—a list that was seemingly endless and unintentionally reminiscent of the life she’d left behind.

She felt a small pang of something that she couldn’t quite place—something that felt like guilt, but also like hope—and when she looked up, she couldn’t help but notice the way Robin’s eyes had shifted to her or the soft smile that stretched across his lips. And she finds herself wondering if this is what acceptance felt like.

The rest of the evening was spent on the couch wearing pajamas and cuddled up underneath blankets as a warm fire crackled in the fireplace and they watched the New Year’s show. Eventually, Robin’s arm slid across her shoulders and by ten-thirty, both boys were cuddled up with them and cocooned in blankets, more than ready for New Year to come so that the celebration could be over and they could go to bed.

Both kids sit up as the final countdown begins—and Regina watches as Henry’s lip catches between his teeth as he watches the countdown and she can’t help but notice the way he inhales a short breath and slowly releases it. But when the countdown hits zero and the new year lights and the sound of _Auld Lang Syne_ plays from the TV, she doesn’t think to ask—instead she wraps her arms around him, pulling him back against her as she presses a kiss to his cheek. Henry laughs out and squirms against her as her fingers tickle his sides and she presses a few kisses to his hair.

“Happy New Year, Henry,” she whispers into his ear.

“Happy New Year, Mom,” he returns, tipping up his chin to look back at her. “Can we go to bed now?”

“What? Bed? Now?” She asks, furring her brow and trying her best to stifle her urge to laugh. “It’s New Years!”

“I’m tiiiiiired,” he says as his head falls back into her lap.

“Me, too,” Roland announces in a voice that’s equal parts chipper and groggy. “Can we sleep in the fort?”

Robin’s eyebrows arch as Regina looks to Robin who shrugs. “I… don’t see why not,” Regina answers, looking between Henry and Roland, who both roll off of the couch, dragging their blankets into the fort. Robin and Regina both follow them, tucking them in and kissing them goodnight before finally making their way upstairs to Regina’s bedroom.

“You know,” Robin begins as a grin stretches onto his lips. “We never got a New Year’s kiss.

“No… we didn’t,” she murmurs in reply as he takes a few steps toward her. She swallows hard as his hands slide over her hips, pulling her toward him until they’re standing chest-to-chest and he’s leaning and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Happy New Year,” she says as he takes a half step back.

“Happy New Year,” he tells her in a voice that’s soft and sincere as his blue eyes sparkle. “This year is going to be the best one yet.”

“You think?”  

“Yeah,” he tells her with a nod as his hands rub over her hips. “It has to be. I have you in my life.”

She bristles a little as she turns out of his arms, moving toward the bed and pulling back the covers. “This years is… going to change everything.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”  

“I know,” she sighs as she gets into bed. “I just… wish we could stay like this. That you and me and Henry and Roland could just… live forever in the happy little bubble we’ve been living in for the past few weeks.”

Robin blinks as he gets into bed beside her. “No matter what happens, you’re not going to lose that.”

“Maybe not…” She takes a breath. “What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if he doesn’t believe me? I mean, why would he?”

“Because he’s eight and he loves you and… because it’s the truth.”

Nodding, she lays back; and for a moment, she doesn’t reply. Instead she finds her thoughts drifting to Henry and the curse and how a small part of her wishes she’d just stayed in New York with him and started a brand new life there. It would have been easy enough and she wouldn’t have to worry about curses and lies and truths that sounded more like fiction than they did reality. She wouldn’t have to worry about hard eyes and hurt feelings, and she wouldn’t have to explain the choices she’d made a life time ago or confront the feelings she wished she could forget. But then, Robin’s fingers trail up her arm and a smile pulls onto her lips, and in spite of everything, she can’t help but feel glad that she brought Henry home with her.

“What if I can’t do it?”

“Break the curse?”

She nods. “Everyone else will forget, but Henry won’t. He’ll… watch everyone living the same year again and again, lost in the fog and…” She sighs and turns her head on the pillow. “He’s already had his heart broken too many times.”

Robin’s eyes narrow and he rolls onto his side, propping his head up in his hand. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you… well… saw you in Storybrooke?”

Regina’s eyebrows arch, somewhat caught off guard by his question. “No. You… never have.”

A smile pulls onto his lips and he chuckles softly. “It was in the first few years of the curse,” he begins. “And you were standing in front of Granny’s ripping into someone for… who knows what and, I stood across the street thinking…”

“That I needed a mild sedative?”

“No,” he says, chuckling again. “I remember thinking that you were the kind of person I’d want to have in my corner.”

“Why?” She asks immediately, her eyes widening. “I sound like I was behaving… horrendously.”

“I didn’t see it that way. What I saw was a woman who was standing up for herself, a woman who wasn’t afraid to speak up and didn’t sugar coat things… a woman who’d fight for something that was important.”

“Oh…”

“I wanted to know you.”

Regina nods and she offers her a sheepish little grin. “I don’t imagine I was… easy to approach in those days.”

“No,” Robin admits. “But I started going to city council meetings just to see you, hoping that…”

“You didn’t,” she interjects, her eyes widening. “You did not attend meetings to… see me.”

“Oh, I did,” he replies. “I know you keep records of everything and there were always sign in sheets. Go back and look. I was there. I never missed one.” He laughs again as his eyes meet hers. “I… thought maybe I could get to know you, that eventually, I’d work up the courage to talk to you.”

“I was that intimidating?”

“You’re… way out of my league. You realize that, right?”

At that, she scoffs. “Right. A tyrannical, mass-murdering…”

“No,” he cuts in. “An ambitious and bold woman, who knows what she wants, and who I always thought could do a lot better than me...and happens to be stunningly beautiful.” A grin pulls onto his lips. “And my plan worked… eventually.”

“Did it?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She can’t help but smile as her eyes roll. “Twenty-some odd years later, I finally got the girl.”

She feels her cheeks flush a little and she nods, laughing softly as she looks down at the empty space between them. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” he says simply. “I think you could use a reminder that things work out when they’re supposed to and… that doesn’t have to be tomorrow.”

“But the longer I delay…” she sighs, her voice trailing off as her eyes shift up to his. “This curse isn’t going to break overnight and the longer it takes, the… the less likely it is to happen.”

“You’re afraid it’s impossible.”

“I… know it’s not impossible,” she admits, “I just don’t know that it’s possible for _me_ to break.”

“You’ll find a way,” he tells her in a voice that’s full of confidence. “Things that seem impossible aren’t always impossible… and… you have help.”

“Help?”  

“Me.”

“But you…”

“Will do whatever you need me to do,” he interjects. “I… don’t actually know what that means or what I’ve just volunteered myself to do, but that’s okay. If you need me, I’m here.”

A grin pulls onto her lips and she pushes herself toward him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she tells him softly, before rolling over to turn out the light. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being in my corner.”

He slides toward her and drapes his arm loosely around her middle. He drops a quick kiss to her jaw as her eyes sink closed. “I love you, too,” he murmurs gently as a smile edges onto her lips—and though she doesn’t quite understand why, she’s grateful for it.

_____

Regina wakes up early the next morning, slowly and carefully sliding away from Robin and out of the warmth of her bed. Shivering slightly, she pads across the room, reaching for her robe and pulling it on for an extra layer of warmth. She looks back at Robin, sleeping peacefully and completely unaware of her absence and a tight smile pulls onto her lips as her thoughts immediately shift to the curse.

She lingers for a moment, then pushes out of the bedroom, tightening the robe around her waist. She steps into her office and moves behind the desk, retrieving a key from the top drawn to unlock another—and with a deep breath, she plucks out an old leather book. Looking down at it, she runs two fingers over the cover, feeling her way over the once so familiar embossed cover of the only magic book that doesn’t reside in her vault. There’s a ribbon in one of the pages—a page she marked when she first heard of the Dark Curse. She remembers the way she poured over the pages, taking in the details of casting the curse and how it’d work—and she remembers the rage that had bubbled up within her when she realized that actual curse was not included in the book’s pages. Swallowing hard, she opens the spine and flips through the pages, and she feels a nostalgic little smile tug onto her lips—and then, she feels a wave of guilt wash over her. Snapping the book closed, she tucks it underneath her arm and heads toward the kitchen in search of coffee.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she can see a light coming from the kitchen and her brow furrows. Peeking into the living room, she sees Roland’s little feet sticking out from underneath the blanket—and for a moment, she lets herself get lost in his sweetness. His little fingers clutch a thick flannel blanket and his messy curls are particularly unruly—and then she realizes that he’s alone. Taking a couple of steps into the living room, she cranes her neck, looking toward the couch and arm chair, and deeper into the tent—and a soft sigh escapes her when she realizes the light in the kitchen is Henry.

Glancing quickly at the clock, she makes her way into the kitchen—and for a moment, she lingers in the doorway, watching as Henry sits on his stool at the counter and arranges rows of crayons and colored pencils. He draws an orange colored pencil from the box and stares at it for a moment, chewing at his lip as he pushes it between a red pencil and one in a lighter shade of orange, and then, his attention turns back to the box.

“You’re up early,” Regina says, smiling when he turns his head. “How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh…” she murmurs as she pushes into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Organizing my coloring supplies,” he says as he plucks a purple crayon from the box. “They got kind of messy yesterday.”

“I see,” she says, slips onto the stool beside him. “Why?”

“Well, they’re nice,” he says, looking up at her. “I’ve never had nice things before and… I want to keep them that way.”

She nods as she sets the book down on the counter, opposite Henry, and she reaches out, running her fingers through the front of his hair. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Not… really.”

“Are you sure? Because… it’s ten minutes past six and you were up late,” she tells him in a soft voice. “I expected you to sleep until lunchtime.”

“I just… couldn’t go back to sleep,” he admits, as he rubs two fingers over a row of crayons. “I’ve… got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Do you?” He nods, still focused on the crayons. “Anything you want to share?” For a moment, he doesn’t say anything and she watches as he pulls a green colored pencil from the box and twirls it slowly between his fingers. “You can tell me anything, you know,” she says as her hand falls from his hair to his shoulder. “Anything…”

“I know,” he says in a low voice, nodding a little as he looks up at her. “I just… it was weird seeing New York again.”

“Ahhh…”

“I kept… looking for them,” he admits as his eyes fall away from hers. “They had a little restaurant a few blocks from Times Square and I just kept… waiting.”

“I should have… thought…”

“It’s not your fault,” Henry’s quick to say as his eyes shift back to hers. “I just never want to see them again… ever.”

“And you won’t have to,” she says, her thoughts momentarily drifting to the magical barrier that surrounds Storybrooke, protecting it from the outside world. “They can’t find you here.”

“I know,” he says. “Maine’s really far away.”

“Yeah… it is.” He takes a short breath. “I dreamt that they found me. They knocked on the door and the police were with them and… they were going to take me away.” His brow furrows. “It felt so real.”

“Oh, Henry,” she murmurs, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around him, practically pulling him off the stool as she tugs him into a tight embrace. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I know…”

“I would never let them…”

“I know,” he cuts in. “But sometimes, I just… think about that.”

She sighs as her heart clenches at the thought of Henry, laying in the little fort in the living room, wide-awake in the dark room, fearing that at any moment a knock would come at the door and tear him out of a world he was just only starting to believe was secure—and then, she feels that familiar pang of guilt as she thinks of how the security she’s given him actually is. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, shrugging his shoulders as she pulls back a little, careful to keep her arms around him. “I just… didn’t.”

She takes a breath. “Was it because Robin’s here?”

“No,” he murmurs as his eyes fall away from hers. “I like that Robin’s here. It’s fun having him and Roland around.”

“Would you tell me if… it wasn’t? Or if you felt like things were… moving too quickly or…”

“I don’t think that,” he’s quick to say. “I really do like that, sometimes, it’s… it’s kind of like we’re all a family.” He shrugs. “I’ve… never known what that was like and… I like it.” He looks back up at her and takes a breath. “I’m just worried that… it’s… all going to go away someday.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, not really knowing what to say as her guilt begins to bubble up inside of her.

“What’s that?” She blinks, as she follows Henry’s gaze to the leather book at her side, and she finds herself caught off guard by the question. “It looks… old.”

“It is…”

“We’re you going to read it?” She nods as she glances from the book to Henry. “Do you want to read it together?”

She can’t help but smile at this eagerness and her eyes narrow. “How about, instead of reading this dusty old book, I make some coffee for myself and I’ll make you some hot chocolate…”

“With whipped cream and cinnamon?”

“With whipped cream and cinnamon,” she agrees. “And we’ll cuddle up on the couch and read more of _The Prisoner of Azkaban_. What do you think?”

A grin twists onto his lips. “But what if we wake up Roland?”

“Well, then… he can… cuddle up and read with us.” Henry giggles as she leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Now, clean up these coloring supplies while I make the coffee and hot chocolate and then we’ll… see what happens with those tea leaves.”

“Mom, did you read ahead?”

“Maybe just a little,” she says, chuckling softly as Henry’s eyes widen—and then, she feels another pang of guilt as she turns away from him and reaches for the coffee, pushing away thoughts for breaking the curse for a least a few more hours.

_____

It’s just before lunchtime and there’s a dull ache at her temples and the back of her head, just at the base of her neck—and she takes a long, deep breath has she turns the page and tries to refocus. For hours, she’s been reading about the creation of the Dark Curse and how it was meant to manifest, hoping to pick up on some detail that would trigger something—anything—that would help her in breaking it.

But instead, all it did was fill her with regret and self-loathing.

Snapping the book shut, she presses her eyes closed. She can almost feel herself opening the book for the first time, remember the way her heart surged when she read about the curse and how she felt she’d finally found her answer. She remembers the way she obsessed about it, ultimately pushing away the one ally she’d had—and then, how she’d stolen the curse from her. She’d briefly faltered over one ingredient—but she stopped at nothing and she remembers the morning she awoke in Storybrooke for the first time, and tingly triumph that overtook her. And she remembers how glad she was that she’d cast the curse, finally giving herself everything she thought she’d wanted.

And still, in spite of everything, she still felt that way—but not for the same reasons.

Then, her victory had been short-lived. The curse wasn’t at all what she’d expected and somehow, she was lonelier than she’d ever been. But it’d all be worth it because it brought her Henry, and then Robin and Roland—and somewhere along the way, they’d taught her what it was like to have a full life, they taught her what it meant to be truly happy.

There’s a light knock at the door, then the sound of it open and her eyes fly open and her jaw tenses. “What part of _do not disturb_ is unclear?”

“I… I’m sorry, Madam Mayor,” her secretary stammers. “It’s just that… Mr. Locksley is on the phone. He said it’s… um… important.”

“Oh, put the call through.”

“You… you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Regina replies incredulously, as if her secretary’s caution hasn’t been warranted. “Of course.” After a quick nod, her secretary disappears and the door closes, and her fingers tap impatiently on the phone as she waits for the call to come through. A half second later, the phone rings and she picks it up, her demeanor instantly changing. “Robin, hi.”

“Hi,” he says with a soft chuckle behind his words. “I… think you made your secretary cry again.”

“She’s just… overly sensitive,” Regina says dismissively, rolling her eyes and smiling as Robin laughs. “I… thought I wasn’t going to hear from you today because inventory was going to take all day…”

“I, uh, hate to cut right to chase but that’s kind of why I’m calling. I need a favor.”

“Oh, okay…”

“I’m stuck here and I just got a call from the school,” he begins. “Roland’s sick.”

“Oh…”

“And I was wondering if you could… pick him up.”

“You want me to pick up Roland because he’s sick.”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “But, if you’re busy or you…”

“No, no, no, no,” she interjects. “I’m not. I can pick him up.”

“And just… maybe bring him to the store so…”

“Nonsense,” she cuts in again. “I’ll take him home.”

He hesitates for a moment. “You’d have to stay with him, and i… don’t know when I’ll be able to get out of here.”

“I know,” she says quickly. “That’s okay. I’ll pick up Henry, too and take them back to your place and… unless you’d rather me bring him to the store.”

He laughs a little. “You’re _sure_ it wouldn’t be an imposition?”

“Not at all,” she returns as a smile pulls onto her lips as she pushes the magic books away and rises to her feet, thinking of the night he’d dropped everything to come over when Henry was sick. “I’d love to spend an afternoon with the boys.”

“I should warn you, Roland’s sort of… high maintenance when he’s sick.”

“That’s okay,” she murmurs as a smile edges onto her lips. “I know a thing or two about being high maintenance.”

Robin laughs and she wonders if he’s thinking about how helpless she was when Henry was sick and how panicked she’d been, not knowing what to do or how to soothe him—and she wonders if he wouldn’t be better to just drop Roland off at the store. “Okay, then. I’ll call the school at let them know that you’re on the way. And, Regina—thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all,” she says as a smile pulls onto her lips and her heart flutters at his confidence. “I’m leaving now,” she says as hangs up the phone, quickly rounding her desk and reaching for her coat.

On the way out the door, she calls to her secretary to take the afternoon off—not really caring if she heard her and assuming that made up for her earlier rudeness—and ten minutes later, she was standing in the main office of the elementary school, waiting for Roland and Henry.

Her chest swells and a smile pulls onto her lips as they both turn toward the office from opposite directions, and Henry takes Roland’s backpack and slings it over his arm. As they near she can see Roland pouting, looking absolutely miserable as his shoulders slump forward. When he’s close enough, she reaches out her hand, wiggling her fingers at him and smiling gently when his little fingers fold around her palm and he lets out a little whimper.

By the time they reach Robin’s cabin, she’s deciphered that Roland has the beginnings of a cold. His throat is scratchy and he’s sniffling and batting the back of his hand at his nose, and his eyes are a little red. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead, he lets out another whimper, and though he feels a little clammy, it doesn’t feel like a fever.

“Okay,” she begins, taking a breath as she glances between the boys. “How about we get you into some pajamas?”

“My fuzzy ones?”

Regina blinks. “Um, sure. Yeah, of course… the fuzzy ones.”

“I’ll help find them,” Henry declares as they make their way back to Roland’s bedroom—a messy room that’s adorned with superhero posters. “What color are they.”

“They’re _lots_ of colors,” he replies with a little sigh as Regina turns to his dresser.

“Oh, okay,” Regina murmurs, watching as Henry’s shoulders shrug and he opens a dresser drawer—and four drawers later, she finds the pajama drawer. She smiles at her small victory, then begins sifting through the drawer in search of something fuzzy and multi-colored, only to find that all of Roland’s pajamas seem to be various colors of plaid. “What are some of the… lots of colors… in them?” She asks, watching as Roland flops back onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, but without a reply. Henry giggles and she turns back to the drawer, helplessly looking down at the unfolded pajamas that fill the drawer, resolving to scoop them all up and toss them onto the bed until Roland settles on a pair—but she just as she slides her hand to the bottom of the drawer she feels something that feels like fleece—and a bright smile pulls onto her lips when she pulls out a pair of flannel, but fleece-lined tie-dyed bottoms. “Ah ha!”

“You found them,” Roland murmurs, turning his head in her direction.

“I said I would,” she replies, standing up and brandishing the pants. “They, um… don’t have a matching shirt or anything, do they?” Roland shakes his head and Henry giggles again. “Okay, now, let’s get you into these.”

Roland is practically dead weight as she changes him—and her heart can’t help but flutter when she turns to take a t-shirt that Henry’s holding out to her, and she sees that Henry’s emptied the drawer and is working on folding all of Roland’s pajamas.

Finally, Roland is changed and tucked into his bed. Regina sits on the edge beside him, stroking her fingers through the front of her hair. His eyes flutter—each time staying closed longer than before—while Henry sits on the floor, still folding laundry and placing it back into the drawer. She smiles as she looks between them, then leans in and presses a kiss to Roland’s cheek. “We’re going to leave you alone for a bit, so you can get some rest, okay?”

“Mm, yeah,” Roland murmurs as she with draws.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay…”

“I’ll be back in a little to check on you,” she tells him as she gets up from the bed, reaching for Henry’s hand as he tucks on last pair of pajama bottoms into the drawer and closes it.  They reach the door and she turns off the light—and just as she’s about to step into the hallway, she hears Roland’s little groggy voice and turns back.

“Regina?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed lunch.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, taking a step back into the room. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does your stomach hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Does it hurt because you’re not feeling well or because you’re hungry?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh,” she says again, looking back at Henry, who only shrugs. “Well, I guess I can get you some crackers.”

“What kind?”

Regina blinks. “Assuming your dad has some, probably just some saltines.”

“The little ones? That go in soup?”

She blinks again. “Yeah. If they’re in the cupboard.”

“Okay.”

“Alright,” she says with a soft chuckle as Roland snuggles into his blanket. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Once more, Henry giggles as he follows her into Robin’s kitchen; and when she opens the cupboard, she breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of a bag of little, unsalted oyster crackers. She grabs them and reaches for a little bowl, pouring a handful of crackers into it before heading back to Roland’s room.

She sits down at the edge of his bed, holding the bowl as he plucks a few out—and she can’t help but laugh as Henry’s eyes widen as he pulls open another, unorganized drawer.  Roland eats a few of the crackers and smiles up at her as her hand rubs his back.

“Are those hitting the spot?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I think so.”

“Good,” she murmurs as he leans in to press a kiss to his hair—and then before she realizes what’s happening, Roland pushes the bowl away from his lap and his shoulders heave forward. Her eyes sink closed as she feels wet warmth in her lap and when Roland’s head lifts back up his shoulders heave forward again and another gush of vomit flies forward and onto her sweater. She groans as her eyes sink closed—and then, she hears Henry burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” Roland murmurs sheepishly, his cheeks flushing as his bottom lip catches between his teeth—and when tears flood his eyes, she can’t help but grin.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, taking a breath. “It’s… nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”

Henry hands her a sweatshirt—and she grimaces, wiping it over her skirt. “Should I go start a bath?”

She nods as her smile tightens. “Yeah, that’s… probably a good idea.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Roland tells her in a shaky voice. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she tells him as she pulls back this soaked blanket and tosses the sweatshirt on top of it—and then, she feels a soft laugh rumbling in her chest. “Hey, at least your fuzzy pajama bottoms are safe.”

“Yeah,” he nods, his cheeks again flushing as “I missed them.”

“Well,” she murmurs as she takes his hand, and helps him out of bed, “Thank goodness for small favors.”

_____

Henry started Roland’s bath and helped him to wash his face and hands while she’d quickly retreated into Robin’s room in search of something to change into. She’d dropped her sweater into his hamper and reached for a pair of sweat pants before pulling off her skirt—and she laughed at her reflection in the mirror. The sweats were too big in every possible way—the waist had to be rolled and so did the legs, and when she rolled them to her knees, it only emphasized the bagginess. She left her tank top on and headed to the bathroom, dismissing Henry of his short-lived babysitting duties before helping Roland into the tub.

Her eyebrow arched when she discovered a small vile of lavender oil in the medicine cabinet—and she couldn’t help but smile as Roland inhaled a deep breath and lied back against the edge of the tub. His eyes closed and he took long, deep breaths, comforted by the smell of the oil and the warmth of the water. Reaching for a bottle of soap and a washcloth, she hated to pull him up—and once more, he was like dead weight as she washed him. A small grin pulled into his lips as she washes his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp for much longer than necessary—and when she pulled him out of the tub and wrapped him in a soft towel, she couldn’t help but hug him to herself and cuddle him a bit.

Twenty minutes after the bath, Roland was on the couch, covered in two blankets as Henry read to him. She stripped the bed and collected the laundry, and started a load of wash—unable to not smile every time she glance at Henry and Roland, curled up together on the couch, in the middle of the first Harry Potter book, which Henry had found on his nightstand.

Padding into the kitchen, she scanned the refrigerator and cupboards, scraping together the ingredients for soup and something that would successfully turn soup into a meal.

With a quick glance across the counter and into the living room, she watched Roland’s eyes drooping as Henry read—and her chest swelled as she scooped out two cups of flour to being her egg noodles. Reaching for the eggs, she cracked them into a separate bowl, whisking the eggs until they were thoroughly mixed and ready to be added to the flour. She glanced up at the boys again, as she mixed the flour and eggs together—and then, turned her attention to kneading the dough.

“What are you doing?”

“Making noodles for soup,” she says, grinning as Henry comes into the kitchen. “Want to help?”

Henry nods and comes into the kitchen. “Roland fell asleep, and I thought it’d be rude to continue the story without him,” he tells her as he drags a stool over to where she stands.

“That was thoughtful.”

“I know he’s seen the movie, but the book’s so much different.”

“It is…”

“Do you think Robin will be mad that Roland and I read ahead of where he stopped?”

“I doubt it.”

“Good,” Henry murmurs as he pulls himself up onto the stool. “What can I do?”

“Roll out the dough,” Regina replies as she extends a rolling pin to him. “Thank you for helping.”

“You know I like cooking. It’s no big deal…”

“Not with the noodles,” she says as a grin tugs onto her lips. “With Roland.”

“Oh…”

“I’m not very… good at taking ca…”

“Yes you are,” Henry blinks. “You’re great at taking care of people.”

“Well… thank you,” she murmurs, laughing a little as she thinks of how helpless she felt the first time he was sick. “I… appreciate that.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Mom.”

Again, she laughs a little as she turns to the refrigerator and pokes at a still-frozen chicken, wishing for the first time in a long time that she had the ability to solve things magically. “When it’s rolled out cut it into strips,” she instructs—pointedly ignoring Henry’s suggestion as she unwraps the chicken. “Then you can slice up some celery.”

“What about the carrots.”

“I enjoy all of your fingers being intact, so… no. I’ll do those.” Henry giggles. “But if you want more to do, you can measure out the spices for me.”

“Okay,” he says in an agreeable tone as he carefully drags the tip of a knife through the dough. “Can you use that if it’s still frozen?”

“Well,” she replies in a tentative as she looks up at him. “I’ve never done it, but… I’m going to try it.”

Henry’s eyebrows arch as she reaches for a pot and fills it with water. “If we all get food poisoning…”

“We’re _not_ going to get food poisoning.”

“If you say so…”

“I do say so,” she murmurs as her eyes roll, and she turns her attention back to the pot on the stove. She waits until the water is bubbling before she drops the chicken into it—and fifteen minutes after, she lifts out an unfrozen chicken and grins at Henry, who still looks skeptical.  Nonetheless, they continue on—nestling the chicken into a Dutch oven and filling it with water, celery, carrots and the spices Henry lined up on the counter.

“Now what?”

Regina blinks. “We just wait.” He looks back at Roland who’s still sleeping on the couch and sighs. “Or… we could make some bread.”

“Bread?”

“Yeah,” she says with a little laugh. “Well,” she murmurs as she pulls open the refrigerator and pulls out two tubes of pre-packaged bread dough. “If we cheat.” She shrugs. “We could… jazz it up a little bit and then dip it in the soup.”

“Can it be cheesy?”

“Maybe,” she murmurs, as she turns her head to peer into the refrigerator. “If Robin has cheese… somewhere in here.”

“Okay,” Henry says. “Should we check on the laundry first?”

“Oh… right…”

Together, they go into the laundry room and Henry helps her collect the wet laundry and set the dryer settings; then, they start they return to the kitchen.  Henry starts to roll out the dough, while Regina goes to check on Roland—grinning softly as he snores and drools onto his pillow. She adjusts the blankets around him and brushes the now-dry unruly curls from his forehead before returning to Henry.

The rest of the afternoon is passed quickly—and it’s easy enough for forget about her stressful morning and the curse and lose herself in teaching her son to shred chicken and make egg noodles and bread. The sun is fading when Roland perks up, sitting up and looking around as he sniffs at the air.

“Look who’s up,” Regina calls as she rounds the counter into the living room. “How are you feeling?”

“Better… I think,” he says in a groggy voice—and no sooner as the words leave his lips, he sneezes and lets out a little whimper as he swallows. “Or not.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs, scooping him up and carrying him into the kitchen. She sets Roland down on the counter top as Henry offers a sympathetic smile. “Okay, well, according to your dad’s text, if a little rest doesn’t cure you I can give you some… of…” she reaches into a cabinet and pulls down a bottle of red liquid. “…this.”

“No, thank you,” Roland says as he tries to muster a grin. “I’m suddenly feeling better.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” Regina says as she pulls the little cup off the top. “Come on, just a little sip. It’ll make you feel so much better.”

“It’s gross. It tastes like… my dad’s feet smell after he takes off his boots when he’s done shoveling the snow.”

A grin twists onto Regina’s lips as Henry giggles beside her, and Roland’s lips press together.

“It _will_ help though,” Henry insists. “That’s what I take when I’m sick.” Roland eyes shift from the bottle in Regina’s hands to Henry. “Honestly, it’ll make you feel better in no time.”

“Really?”

“Really…”

“Just a little bit,” Regina adds as she pours the medicine into the little cup. “Look that’s not a lot at all.”

“Nope,” Henry says shaking his head, “And if you swallow fast, you’ll barely taste it.” Roland blinks and slowly reaches out for the cup. Regina watches as he looks down at the thick red liquid—and she can almost see Roland considering dumping it into the sink. “Plug your nose,” Henry suggests. “That helps, too.”

“It does?”

“Yup,” Henry says with a confident nod. “Here, I’ll help.” Roland takes a breath as Henry pinches his nose closed. “And I’ll count to three.” Then on three, Roland tips back his head and downs the medicine. “See! Not so bad, right?”

Roland’s nose scrunches, but he shakes his head—and Regina laughs as she lifts him from the counter. His legs wrap around her and his head falls to her shoulder. “How about some soup?”

“Is it ready?”

“It should be,” Regina says, nodding toward the pot on the stove. “Why don’t you check?”

Henry nods and lifts the lid on the pot, and as he does, there’s a jingling at the front door—and a moment later, Robin steps into the house. A smile pulls onto her lips as he stops at the threshold of the kitchen and looks between the three of them, then his eyes slowly linger from her shoulders to her feet and back again.

“Hey…”

“Hi,” he murmurs as he steps into the kitchen, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek as his hand rubs over his son’s back. “I see you found the magic pajamas even though I forgot to tell you about them.”

“Yes,” she nods. “Roland… may have insisted on them.”

“And I didn’t puke on them,” Roland tells him—and Regina laughs as Robin’s eyes widen. “But I did puke on Regina.”

“I… am _so_ sorry,” Robin says as his eyes sink closed.

“Its fine,” she tells him in a sincere voice as her hand rubs over Roland’s back. “Besides… as it turns our… your sweatpants are much more comfortable than the pencil skirt I was wearing… much more conducive to giving baths and doing laundry and making dinner.”

Again, Robin grimaces and she laughs. “Can I… help with something?” He asks as his eyes open. “Can I take him or… help with dinner or…”

“I’ve got him,” Regina says, “But if Henry gives it the green light, you could pour us all some soup and maybe bring the bread over into the living room?” She grins. “I figured, since Roland’s sick… eating in the living room would be acceptable.”

“It’s generally acceptable,” Robin says with a soft chuckle behind his words.

“Yeah,” Roland says as he lifts his head from her shoulder. “We only ever eat at the table when you and Henry are here.”

“Thanks, son,” Robin sighs as he presses a kiss to his cheek and joins Henry at the stove.

_____

The four of them eat dinner around the coffee table—and the whole time, Roland clutches to Regina. He burrows back into her and nuzzles his cheek to her shoulder, and when dinner’s done, he turns in her lap and cuddles closer as she pulls a blanket up around them. Robin laughs and quips about how he’s been replaced—and though Regina gives him an apologetic little grin, she can’t help but notice the way Robin looks at her as Roland cuddles in her lap—and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy any of it.

They watch a movie of Roland’s choosing—ironically, he chooses the Disney version of Robin Hood. She shifts uncomfortably at the selection, but says nothing—and her nerves quickly diminish as she hears Robin scoffing at the obvious liberties that were taken with his story. Henry doesn’t seem to notice any of it—and she remembers the night in her New York hotel room that they watched this movie, and she remembers that it’s one of his favorites. After awhile, she feels Robin’s foot rubbing at her ankle, and any feelings of discomfort begin to fade away. A smile pulls onto her lips as she looks up at him—and by the time the movie’s over, Roland is asleep again.

“I should put him to bed,” Robin murmurs as he reaches for his son.

“Yeah, it’s… getting late.”

“It’s seven thirty,” Henry says, arching his eyebrows as he looks between them.

“That’s… _getting_ late.”

“You two should stay,” Robin says as he lifts Roland into his arms. “I know Roland’s sick, but… my couch pulls out into a bed, so Henry could sleep there… and the boys don’t have school tomorrow and now that inventory’s over, I don’t plan on going back into my store for a few days and… the three of us could watch another movie or play a game or… something.” He sighs. “I’m just not ready for you two to leave… and you’re already in pajamas, so…”

Regina watches as Henry presses his lips together to stop himself from giggling—and she nods. “I guess we could stay.”

“Who’s staying?” Roland murmurs as he lifts his had from Robin’s shoulder.

“Regina and Henry.”

“Good,” Roland says in groggy, yet decisive voice. “I’m glad she’s not mad that I threw up on her.”

This time, Henry laughs out and a smirk forms on Robin’s lips as he carries Roland to his room—and once they’ve disappeared down the hallway, Regina tugs Henry over to her.

“Are you okay staying?”

“Of course.”

“Because if you’re not…”

“Mom,” Henry cuts in, as he flops down onto the couch beside her. “I want to stay.”

“You’re positive?”

“Mom,” he says in a very serious voice. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. I just want to be sure.” Henry giggles as he settles back onto the couch beside her. “You know, I really appreciated all of your help today.”

“You’re the one who did all of the work…” A grin pulls onto his lips and a squeaky giggle escapes him. “And the one who got puked on.”

“Hey,” she says, poking her fingers at his side. “You weren’t supposed to laugh.”

“It was funny!”

“It was not!”

“Yes, it was,” he laughs out, as she grabs his sides, tickling him until he’s breathlessly squirming and laughing uncontrollably. “It was! It was really funny!”

Regina stops tickling as Henry falls into her lap and an easy grin pulls onto her lips. “Okay. Maybe it was a little bit funny… but just a little bit.”

“A lot.”

“Maybe.” Leaning down, she presses a kiss to his hair just before he rolls over and looks up at her. “You should have seen your face.”

“Did I look horrified?”

“Yup.”

“Did I look like I wanted to throw up, too?”

“Oh, yeah.”

She grimaces a little. “And did… Roland notice any of that?”

“Not a chance.”

“Good.”

“So, is it okay to laugh about it now?” Regina sighs and rolls eyes, but nods—and once more, a little giggle escapes him. “Because it was really funny.”

Her head falls back against the back of the couch and from the corner of her eye she can see Robin standing at the end of the hall, watching them. A slight grin pulls onto her lips and his smile brightens—and he has on that same look he wore when he came home to find her with the boys in the kitchen. He lingers for a moment, then pushes into the room and joins them on the couch.

“Thanks for cleaning Roland’s room,” Robin says as he picks up Henry’s legs, then drops them back down onto his lap.

“How do you know it was me?”

“Well, your mom was busy taking care of Roland and… even if he weren’t sick, Roland would never even think about cleaning his room unless I told him to clean his room… forty-seven times.”

A smirk forms on Regina’s lips. “So, uh, does Roland do his own laundry?”

“No, I do…”

“Hm, seems like this is an inherited trait then,” Regina murmurs as her eyebrows arch and Henry giggles.

“We’re bachelors. We don’t… fold clothes or use dryer softeners or…”

“But those make your clothes so soft,” Henry says as he sits up and his eyes widen. “Why wouldn’t you use them?”

Regina laughs as Robin blinks. “Well, then… I… guess I’ll have to try them.” Henry settles between them. “So, laundry aside, what do you want to do? Play a game? Watch another movie? Do some math?”

“Not math!” Henry declares in a serious voice as he wiggles out from between them. “A movie would be good.”

“Okay. You pick.”

“Okay,” he says with an easy nod as he goes to the DVD player and ejects the DVD, then carefully places it back into its case—and for a moment, he just stares down at the cover. Regina watches as his brow furrows and his lip catches between his teeth, and before she can ask, he suddenly looks over at them. “Was Robin Hood real?”

Her stomach drops as the question fall off his lips and she feels a tightening in her chest. “Wh-what?”

“Robin Hood, was he real?”

“Why… um, would you think that?” She manages to ask, her mouth suddenly dry and her voice hoarse.

Henry looks down at the DVD case and his brow again creases. “Well, sometimes these movies are based on real people,” he says as he looks back to them. “Like Pocahontas.”

Suddenly, Regina feels her chest and throat tighten, completely caught off guard by Henry’s seemingly simple question. Her head is spinning with possible responses, but she can’t seem to find the right words—and even if she knew how she wanted to answer the question, even if she wanted to take the opportunity Henry had unwittingly tossed her way, she can’t find it in herself to push out the words. His head tips to the side and she can tell he’s confused by her lack of response—but when she tries again to reply, she can’t. He glances to Robin and then back to her, and still, she can’t formulate a response.

“Yes,” Robin says, his voice cutting into the silence and diverting Henry’s attention to him. “Robin Hood was a real person.” Regina swallows hard as she looks to Robin and she watches a smile tug up at the corners of his mouth. “But… I will say, I don’t think the movie we just watched is all that accurate.”

“Like Pocahontas’s story.”

“Yes,” Robin says again.  “I mean, the basics were there—Robin Hood had his band of Merry Men and they were considered outlaws. He was a known thief who stole from the richest of the rich to give to the poor, and he did fall in love with a beautiful maiden named Marian. But the rest of the story was… mostly a fabrication and some pretty big pieces were missing.”

Henry chews at his lip for a moment. “That’s pretty cool, though. I mean, even if the details have gotten messed up… that a regular person could become a legend like that.”

“Yeah,” Robin nods. “I think I agree.” Beneath the blanket, Regina feels Robin’s hand form loosely around hers. “But I also think our lives aren’t just one story. Sometimes we’re the hero, but sometimes we’re the villain. Sometimes heroes become villains and sometimes villains become heroes. People aren’t black and white and conflicts aren’t as simple as good versus bad. It’s all much more complex than movies suggests.”

Regina feels her jaw tightening as she watches Henry considering Robin’s words. He slowly nods as he looks back to the DVD case and then back to Robin. “That makes sense,” he decides. “And I still think it’s pretty cool to be immortalized like that… even if the details are all wrong.”

“I think so, too,” Robin says, as he gives Regina’s hand a tight squeeze. Finally, she looks away from Henry and back to Robin, finding his eyes soft and sincere. She offers him a little grin, and then she looks back to Henry, watching as he puts the Robin Hood DVD back on the shelf before scanning its contents to select another.

____

Regina wakes with a start. Her eyes flutter open and her head lifts from the pillow—and though Robin’s bedroom is dark and still, it’s such a contrast to the fast-paced beating of her heart. Swallowing hard, she takes a breath, looking around as she tries to remember what she’d been dreaming of—but harder she tries to remember, the further it slips away, only leaving a discontented feeling at her core. For a moment, she considers trying to go back to sleep, taking a few long deep breathes before laying back against her pillow. Turning to look at Robin, a soft grin pulls onto her lips. His arm is outstretched, his fingers nearly touching her hip and his head is turned in the opposite direction. His mouth is gaping open and his breathing is loud, but rhythmic—and she can’t help but think that in this moment how much he reminds her of Roland.

Leaning over, she brushes a barely-there kiss to his stubbly cheek and then she pushes away the blankets. Shivering, she gets out of bed and pads into the hallway—and her smile returns at the sight of Henry.

“Hey,” she murmurs in a hushed voice. “What are you doing up?

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and closing a leather-bound book in his lap. “How about you?”

“Same.” Her smile warms as she slips onto the pull-out sofa bed and wraps her arm around his shoulders. “So, I thought that instead of waking up Robin I’d… come out here and find a way to entertain myself or lull myself back to sleep.”

Henry nods. “I’m looking at an old photo album.”

“Yeah?”

Henry opens the book on his lap and a grin tugs onto his lips. “From when Roland was a baby.”

“Oh,” Regina murmurs as she looks down at a photograph of Robin holding Roland. His eyes are puffy yet drawn from lack of sleep, and there’s a burp cloth draped over his shoulder. Roland is looking up at him bright eyes as his little fingers reach up and touch his chin— and as sweet as the captured moment is, it’s a lie. For a few minutes, Henry doesn’t say anything—instead, he stares down at the image, trailing his fingers over the edge. She watches him, his jaw trembling slightly as his shoulders tense, and her chest clenches. “Henry, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You were sleeping,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

Henry blinks as he turns to look up at her. “I didn’t have a nightmare. I just… couldn’t sleep.”

Nodding, she takes a breath. “You sure?” Henry’s eyes fall away from hers and he looks back at the photograph, hesitating. “Henry, you can tell me anything.”

“Even if it hurts your feelings?”

Her heart clenches and she feels her head tip to the side. “Yes,” she says easily. “Even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings.”

Henry nods and takes a breath, then shifts his eyes up to her. “I love you, you know that, right? You know that I really love the life you’ve given me and how glad I am that you’re my mom now?”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay…” Henry says, nodding as he takes in another short breath. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“When we were watching the second­­­­ movie… and at the beginning when the lady puts her baby in the basket and sends him down the river… I just… I started to think about… about… my birth mother.”

“I see…”

“Everyone always said she was young and not ready to be a mom, but…” He shrugs as his eyes fall away from hers. “I don’t know that for sure… and I just… I wonder if she ever thinks about me.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, her breath catching her chest. “I can’t speak for her, but I know that… I did.” A small but sad smile forms on his lips and he nods. “Do you… think about her a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“It’s okay, if you do…”

“I just… wonder sometimes.” He shrugs as he looks back to her. “I just wonder… what she’s like and… if I’m like her and… if she’s happier now or…”  Henry’s voice trails off as a knot forms in Regina’s stomach. “When I was in New York, especially after I ran away, I wondered if… if I’d ever seen her. You know, like, had she walked by me or did I see her in a store or at the library or… something.”

“You wanted her to find you.”

Henry hesitates and he looks away. “A little.”

“That’s okay, Henry,” she says, the knot her stomaching tightening. “It’s okay that you think about her and that you wonder about her and… even if you… wanted her to be a part of your life.”

“I have a closed adoption though.”

“That’s true…”

“I don’t want to go and live with her or anything—not anymore,” he says quickly as he looks back at her. “And I’m glad that you found me instead of her and I…”

“Henry,” she says, cutting in a small but reassuring smile stretches across her lips. “I think it’s… only natural that you’d wonder about her.” For a moment, she takes a breath in an effort to build up her course and resolve, letting her eyes sink closed as she remembers when she’d first wanted to adopt Henry and she’d hired a private investigator to track down his birthmother. She’d been curious about her, but she’d also wondered about her medical history and habits, traits that she might have genetically passed on to her son. At the time, she’d had a million reasons for wanting the information—a million valid reasons—but she can’t help but think, the real reason was one she couldn’t possibly have known of then, and then real reason was yet another opportunity to break her curse. “What if I told you that… I know who your birthmother is? What if I had her name and her phone number?”

“What?” He asks, his eyes widening as he looks up at her. “How? My adoption was closed and that means…”

“I know what it means,” she interjects quickly. “Before I adopted you—before the first time I was going to—I had someone track her down. I was… just curious.” She watches Henry swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his jaw beings to tremble. “It was eight years ago, so I don’t know if the number I have is still valid… and I don’t know if she’d want to but… I could always call her and see if… if she wanted to… meet you… or talk to you or… something.” Swallowing hard, she can feel a tremor beginning in her hands—but as nervous as she is, the knot in her stomach begins to loosen. “That way… you’d know and you wouldn’t have to wonder anymore.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “I… I didn’t think that was possible.”

“You… don’t have to decide now. You can think about it.”

Henry nods. “And you… won’t be mad if… I… want to meet her?”

“I won’t be mad.” A small grin pulls up at the corners of her mouth and she feels a surge of confidence. “Especially if it gives you some peace of mind,” she tells him, watching as he chews at his lip. Reaching out, she gives his arm a little squeeze. “And… if she doesn’t want to… then… we’ll go from there.”

“It’s weird,” he says, finally looking back to her. “I’ve thought about this for my whole life and now that it’s possible… I don’t know if I want to do it.”

“Are you scared?”

“Maybe…”

“Like I said, you don’t need to decide now.”

“And you’re _sure_ you won’t be mad?” He asks again. “You’re absolutely positive…”

“I am absolutely positive and one hundred percent sure that I won’t be mad if you want to meet her.” She smiles again as Henry nods, still considering as her hand rubs over his arm. “You being curious about the woman who gave birth to you has… nothing to do with our relationship.”

“Yeah,” Henry agrees with a little nod. “You’re still my mom, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Regina repeats, leaning in to rest her forehead against Henry’s. “You’re stuck with me.” Henry giggles as she pulls him close against her chest, combing her fingers though his hair as he nuzzles closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think it’d be helpful to… talk to someone about this? Someone who could help you work out your feelings about this... someone who’s not me, maybe?”

Henry lifts his head as he pulls back. “Like _a shrink_?”

“A therapist…”

“You think I need a shrink?” He asks, his eyes widening as panic seeps into his voice. “You think I’m…”

“Henry,” she says, quick to cut in and quick to try to soothe him. “There’s a doctor who has an office down the street from City Hall. I’ve gone to him a few times over the years and… it helps.” She shrugs as she rubs her hand gently against his back. “I’ll let this be your decision, but… it could help to work through some of your feelings about this with someone who… wouldn’t be affected by it.”

“So, it’d be… just to talk about… this one thing.”

“Just this one thing…”

“Can I… think about this, too?”

“Yeah, of course you can.”

Henry nods and cuddles back into her, and she pulls the blanket up around them. She rubs his back and rests her cheek atop his head, lost in thought about the possibility of bringing Henry’ birthmother into his life—even if just on a temporary basis—and she wonders if it’s really what’s best for him or if she’s encouraging it because she knows his birthmother’s identity and the importance she plays in breaking the curse. And then, as she feels Henry’s breathing steady, she wonders if she was completely truthful with him and she wonders if she can handle it.

Her head lifts as she hears footsteps coming from the hallway—and when she looks up, she sees Robin coming into the living room. Without saying anything, he stretches an arm around her and presses a kiss to her temple; and for a while, he just sits with them.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Quite a bit,” he admits in a hushed voice.

“And what do you think?”

“Well,” he begins tentatively as he presses another kiss to his hair. “It’s… certainly a complicated situation.”

“It is,” she agrees, “And it’s made much more complicated by the fact that Henry’s birth mother is the savior.”

“The savior,” he repeats. “As in…”

“As in the person who is destined to break my curse,” she finishes with a nod. “That’s my son’s birthmother.”

“Oh… that… _does_ complicate things.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out as her eyes sink closed. “It does.”

“Whatever happens,” Robin begins after a second or two passes. “Just remember that while his birthmother might be _the_ savior, you will always be _his_ savior.” Regina nods and nuzzles her cheek against Henry’s head—and she hopes that when all is said and done, regardless of what happens with Emma Swan and the Dark Curse, Henry still feels that way about her because losing him again is the one fate she’d never be able to endure.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry starts his sessions with Archie. Meanwhile, Regina makes a very calculated move that she can only hope won’t backfire.

It’s nearly the end of January when Henry’s first appointment with Dr. Hopper is scheduled—and on a nearly daily basis, Henry has waffled back and forth about whether or not he wants to go. But each of his protests are met with a gentle but firm insistence from Regina—and each time she insists, she hopes she pushing him for the right reasons.

But over and over again, she tells herself that it isn’t about the curse or Emma Swan, it’s about Henry and helping him through the trauma that had been his early childhood.

His birthmother aside, his nightmares hadn’t stopped. More times than not, he awoke in the middle of the night with teary eyes, gasping for air as he tried to remember where he was and that he was safe with her. Sometimes he woke her up—quietly, he’d push open her door and peek inside her bedroom and his little voice would murmur a barely audible _Are you still awake?_ On those nights she’d peel back her covers and cuddle him close, they’d reach extra chapters of whatever book they were in the middle of or they’d go down to the kitchen and talk it out over mugs of warm milk until his eyes were drooping and he was no longer afraid.

But there were other nights that he didn’t come to her—nights he’d lie alone in his darkened bedroom, nights when didn’t seek her comfort. On occasion, she’d awake in the middle of the night and go to check on him, finding him curled up and crying; and on those nights, though he was willing to accept her comfort, he wasn’t willing to talk about it.

In some ways, they were so similar—how they’d bottle up negative feelings, not wanting to share, not wanting to voice certain things and not wanting to admit to others. On the nights when she found him, alone and scared, she remembered how she’d sit up at night, listening to her mother rage—sometimes this was actually happening, but other times, more frequent times, she was reliving a memory or a something that happened in a dream which had only felt real—and each time, she felt so trapped. It didn’t matter that her nurse would come in and sit with her—that she’d comfort her in the ways she now tried to comfort Henry—there were things that just couldn’t be comforted or loved away. She’d been trained from a young age not to cause a scene, not to upset people and to diminish her own feelings—though it hadn’t been intentional, this was one of the lasting lessons her father had bestowed upon her—and she wondered if it wasn’t the same for Henry.

And she wondered how much of his childhood he kept from her—how much he refused to share, how much he kept tucked away in the recesses of his memory, for himself to endure. He knew how guilty she felt about giving him up and she told him enough how she’d truly believed it was what was best for him, that she couldn’t love him the way a child should be loved, that she couldn’t give him the childhood he deserved. Of course, she’d been wrong—something she acknowledged again and again—and she wondered, if somehow—conscious of it or not—he was trying to protect her.

This wasn’t about the curse or Emma Swan; it was about Henry.

It was always about Henry for her.

“Mom,” he asks, yawning and stretching out beside her on her bed. “Can I stay home?”

“From school?” She asks, rolling onto her side as her eyebrow arches and she stifles her urge to grin. “Why don’t you want to go to school?”

“I’m… not feeling well.”

Laughing, she slides down beside him, pressing one hand to his forehead—which was soft and cool—and pressing the other to his pajama-covered stomach. “You don’t seem sick.”

“But I _am_.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” he nods, his eyes moving to her hand as it slides from his stomach to his side—and immediately, he flinches and giggles as she starts to tickle him. “Mo-oom…”

“You are a terrible liar, Henry,” she laughs as he squirms beside her.

“So tell me, why don’t you want to go to school?” Her eyes narrow as her fingers walk from his side up to his chest and tap his chin. “The real reason.”

“I have a math test.”

“Ah…”

“And I’m worried about it.”

“We’ve been practicing. We studied for an hour last night.”

“I know,” Henry sighs. “And it makes sense when you and Robin do it with me, but then I see the problems on the test and I just… forget it all.”

“Oh…”

He sighs and turns his head on the pillow, and looks away. “And no matter how good I _think_ I’m going to do, I always get it back and… find out that I did bad on it.”

“Some things are just tough…”

“Not for everyone else,” he tells her, turning his head back. “The last one, I got a C and….”

“And I was really proud of that C. You worked really hard.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly. “But I was the _only_ one who didn’t get an A.” He sighs. “My class did so well that Ms. Blanchard gave us candy.”

“Did you get a piece?”

“Yeah,” he tells her with a little nod. “But I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t earn it like everyone else did.” His eyes again fall away from hers. “Everyone knew it, too.”

“Henry,” she murmurs, reaching out and tipping his chin toward her. “You did earn it. You might not have gotten an A, but you did well on that test. Math is hard for you, and you got _a lot_ of those problems right. You did _your_ best.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding a little. “I guess.” And then his jaw starts to tremble. “I just don’t understand why I always have to work so much harder than everyone else for things. It’s not just math…”

Her chest tightens and her arms fold around him, pulling him against her chest as tears spill down his cheeks—and more than anything, she wishes that there were more that she could do for him. She pulls him tighter, one hand clenching to his pajama top as the other cups his head; she murmurs soothing things and rocks him gently—and all the while, she feels a familiar rage bubbling up inside of her.

On most days, she’s able to control it. On most days, she’s able to push aside the past and contain her rage and anger, focusing on the things she has, focusing on the future and focusing on the things she can control. But every now and then, she finds herself unable to let go—unable not to let her anger permeate, unable not to cast blame where she feels it belongs, unable to stop herself from wanting someone to pay.

And she can feel that this is going to be one of those days.

Taking a breath, she pushes him back a little and kisses his forehead, letting her eyes linger on his as she brushes the tears from his cheeks.

“Well,” she begins, slowly exhaling her breath. “I can’t do much about the math test…”

“So I can’t stay home?”

“No,” she tells him, a small pang of regret striking at her core—a familiar feeling when she feels she’s disappointed him. “But, if you get dressed and cleaned up in the next fifteen minutes, we can go to Granny’s for breakfast before school.”

“Really?” He asks, perking up as his eyes widen. “Can I get waffles and whipped cream?”

“Sure,” she laughs as he rolls off the bed and bounds toward his bedroom.

She waits to hear the bedroom door open and close, and then, taking another breath, she gets out of bed. Running her fingers through her hair, she looks in the mirror—and for an all too brief moment, she sees her former self looking back at her. Shaking her head, she looks away from the mirror, opening the closet door as she reaches for a simple black dress and a gray blazer. Tossing the garments over her arm, she looks up at the top shelf of the closet—and instead of reaching for a pair of black Jimmy Choos, she reaches for the shoebox with Henry’s name on the top.

Dressing quickly, she puts on her makeup—and when a light knock comes onto her door, she calls Henry in, grinning as he pokes his head in. “You ready?” She asks, as she slips her feet into her shoes—and then reaches for her leather tote bag containing the box. Her heart flutters with nervousness as he nods and takes her head, leading her down the stairs.

They pulls on their coats and gloves—and ten minutes later, they’re nestled into a booth drinking orange juice and waiting for waffles. She reminds him that after school he has his first session—and though he scrunches his nose, he nods and asks if he’ll like Dr. Hopper. She tells him sincerely that she hopes he does and she hopes it’ll help him—and when their waffles arrive, she pushes away the thought of how disappointed Archie would be with her if he knew of her afternoon plans.

_____

“Mmm, we should do _lunch_ more often,” Robin says as his lips fall to her bare shoulder. “This was so much better than an egg salad sandwich and choosing how to best arrange next month’s sale items.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m more enjoyable than egg salad,” she laughs.

“You’re more enjoyable than a lot of things…”

She hadn’t been able to concentrate. Budget reports and planning an agenda for the next town hall meeting hadn’t held her interest and every time she tried to focus, all she could think of were Henry’s tears and her inability to stop them. She’d pushed her keyboard away and opened her desk drawer, impulsively pulling out a stationary set and a favorite ink pen. Quickly, she scribbled a note, her jaw tightening as her the knot in her chest loosened with the satisfaction of _doing something_ —a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long, long while. For a moment, she stared down at it—wondering if she wanted to do this, wondering if this was necessary, wondering if it would really help—but then, she thought again of Henry and the difficulty he had trusting in safety, in believing that good things could he permanent, and the way his eyes fell away from hers that morning as he tried to hide the conviction in them, as he tried to hide his steadfast belief that he was somehow undeserving.

Exhaling a breath, she reached for one of the envelopes, then for her tote. Pulling out the box, she rummaged through the papers until she found what she was looking for—and for a brief moment, she let her eyes linger over the name, letting herself ruminate on it and letting herself decide.

And she decided a little pay back—a little discomfort for years of neglect—was in order.

Regina picked the pen back up, carefully addressing the envelope before tucking the note inside and sealing it. Easily, she tucked the paper back into the box and then tucked the box back into her bag—and a smile stretched over her lips as she considered the feelings her carefully written words would evoke, and she felt a wave of satisfied relief.

She’d been on her way to mail the note when she walked past Robin’s store, and caught a glimpse of him in the window. He was standing there with his John and she couldn’t help but laugh as they attempted to hang an oar in the window. Robin’s face scrunched as John hoisted up the oar, rolling his eyes when Robin shook his head and motioned to the left. John sighed and nodded, dragging the oar over and hoisting it up again—and he let out an audible sigh as Robin motioned back to the direction he’d just come from.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, stepping inside and laughing as John smiled brighter than Robin. “You two look busy…”

“No, no,” John said reassuringly. “Just working on the window display… which… really is a one person job.”

“I beg to differ.”

“It’d be done if there weren’t two of us…”

“And it’d look terrible,” Robin sighed. “The point is to make the merchandise look appealing… not like… we hung an orr from a noose.”

“Perhaps our customers would like to think they’re freeing the merchandise from our torture,” John replied as Regina giggled. “Madam Mayor,” he said, looking to her. “Please tell me you’re here to take your boyfriend to lunch… preferably lunch that’s away from here.”

“I brought sandwiches,” Robin said, looking back at him. “Egg salad.”

“Oh great… I can be annoyed _and_ disgusted,” John sighed as he turned back to the window. “Perfect…”

“Well, I was actually just going to mail something, but… now that he mentions it, it _is_ time for lunch.” A smile stretched over her lips and a few minutes later, they were walking toward Granny’s; but before even stepping inside, they could see that it was crowded and that there was a wait, and Robin had turned to her and grinned, and asked if she wanted to go somewhere a little more private.

They’d ended up at Robin’s and almost as soon as they arrived, his lips found hers and instead of eating lunch, they were falling into bed together…

“I could stay here all day,” he murmurs as his lips slide from her shoulder and then to her neck. “All day…”

“That’d be nice…” she sighs, letting her head fall back as his tongue flicks at her earlobe. “If only…”

“Why if only?” He asks, a low chuckle behind his words. “We could stay here for at least a few more hours.”

“No…”

“Give me one good reason.”

“Our sons have to be picked up from school.”

Pulling up his head, he laughs. “I asked for _one_. That’s technically two.” He pauses and a grin tugs onto his lips. “And they could take the bus back here and we could…”

“Whatever you’re about to say, I’d love to,” she says, sighing as she pulls herself up. “But I can’t. Not today.”

Robin blinks. “Oh, that’s right…”

“Henry’s appointment with Dr. Hopper is right after school.”

“I forgot,” Robin says, sitting up and pecking her cheek. “Another time though.” He laughs as she nods, and his arm hooks around her waist. “But we do have a couple more hours before school gets out.”

Her eyes roll and though she shakes her head, ready to protest. But her lips brush over his as her fingers slide up over his stubbly cheek, and she finds it so difficult to say no. “Not today,” she murmurs, pulling back a little. “But another day. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he tells her, leaning in and capturing his lips between hers, sucking gently before pulling away as his stomach rumbles. “Can you at least stay for an actual lunch?”

“I think so,” she murmurs, watching as he gets out of bed and pulls on his pants.

A grin tugs onto her lips as she watches him—watching the way he moves and the way he bends, appreciating and getting lost in her view. He laughs as he picks up her dress from the floor, holding it out to her as she reaches for her bra at the foot of the bed. “I have left over shrimp scampi,” he tells her. “I’ll go heat it up while you get dressed,” he says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Her heart flutters as she watches him go and reluctantly, she slips from the warm bed. She dresses quickly and tussles her hair, her head swimming with thoughts of Robin and the way he makes her feel, of Henry and his pending appointment, of Henry’s tears and the stamped note in her bag that’s waiting to be sent; she thinks of Roland and the curse and she thinks about the story book that’s tucked into the top drawer of her desk and how Henry will react to it when he inevitably finds it. She’s barely aware of Robin opening the bedroom door, murmuring that lunch is ready as he comes up behind her and kisses up and down the nape of her neck, slowly drawing up the zipper on her dress as her hand seeks his.

Together they go into the kitchen where two plates of scampi and re-warmed rolls await them—and she can’t help but laugh at the little candle between the plates.

“You’re adorable,” she says as he pulls out her chair. “You realize that, right?”  He laughs and shakes his head, then kisses her cheek as he sits down across from her. “I am also impressed that you got Roland to eat shrimp.”

“Well, you’ll notice there’s a lot of leftovers,” Robin tells her. “And… he enjoyed the pasta… more so than the shrimp.”

“Ah, of course.”

“My picky little eater,” Robin muses as he dips his fork into the pasta. “So, has Henry warmed up to the idea of seeing Archie this afternoon?”

“Well, he didn’t try to get out of it this morning…”

“That’s good. Maybe it’s a step in the right direction.”

“Or, he just… had other things he wanted to get out of,” she tells him with a sigh, recapping the conversation she and Henry had that morning about his math class. “Really, I think he just feels like having to see Archie is one more thing that makes him different than other kids. None of his friends see a therapist…”

“It’s understandable that this is hard on him.”

“I know,” she sighs as she pulls a piece of shrimp from her fork. “I just… hope that he’s open to it and that he’s not just going through the motions because I told him to.” She shrugs and twirls her for through the pasta.  “Sessions with Archie won’t help if he doesn’t want them to.”

Robin hesitates for a moment. “You’re… speaking from experience.”

“That surprises you?” She asks, arching an eyebrow in his direction. “It surprises you that someone like me would go to therapy?”

“Well,” he murmurs, obviously considering and obviously trying to choose his words carefully. “You’re… very private. You don’t open up easily. So, yes… a little bit.”

“I… sort of thought you’d point out my… more psychotic tendencies.” He offers a tight smile and she sighs. “But, I just… I reached a point where I had to do something.” She glances up to find his blue eyes soft and attentive, willing her to continue. “I, um… I guess I just… needed someone to talk to. I didn’t… want to get lost in my own head again.”

“That’s understandable,” he says. “And Regina, I didn’t mean to imply that…”

“That there’s something wrong with me?”

“Certainly not,” he’s quick to say. “Or that there’s something wrong with you seeking help.”

“I didn’t take it that way.”

“Good…”

Suddenly, her chest feels heavy and she can’t help but lose herself for a moment in the memory of that day she went to Archie’s office to make an appointment. She’d paced on the sidewalk for the better part of an hour, and still, after making the appointment, she’d cancelled twice before finally paying him a visit.

At the time, she hadn’t been completely sure of why she’d made the appointment—she still hadn’t been in a place to accept her crimes for what they were and she was still in the habit of making excuses; yet, the curse wasn’t at all what she expected and she was even lonelier than she’d ever been. Her fresh started quickly went awry as she fell easily into the old habits she swore she’d leave behind—and somehow, her sins in this world carried a greater weight.

“When I… um… cast the curse, I told myself that it was going to be a fresh start for me,” she tells him, somewhat abruptly as she focuses down on her pasta. “Yes, I wanted to punish people but I also wanted to prove myself. For so long I was told that I was evil and that I could never do anything good, and…” she sighs, “I realize how crazy this sounds, but part of my victory was that I’d finally be able to prove everyone wrong.”

“That’s not crazy.”

“Well, I hadn’t been here a week before I… murdered someone,” she admits sheepishly as she looks to Robin, waiting for him to react. “This man and his son were camping in the woods when the curse hit and…”

“Kurt,” he murmurs as his brow creases. “And his son, Owen.” Swallowing hard, she feels her mouth go dry at the sound of their names.  A knot forms in her stomach and she drops her fork, suddenly losing the feeling in her hands as her body numbs and Robin’s eyes darken. “I… remember them. They came into my store. They were… looking for an auto body shop and the boy played with Roland. They talked about Star Wars and… he showed Roland the lanyard he was making. You…” His voice suddenly halts, and he can’t finish the sentence as his eyes widening with recognition.

Looking down, her eyes sink closed. “I was wondering when this would happen.”

“Wh-what?”

“I was wondering when I’d finally reveal something that you couldn’t for…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Robin cuts in, his voice rising over hers, “What are you talking about?”

“That look in your eye, that tone in your voice,” she murmurs, blinking back her tears. “I knew eventually it would…”

“No,” he’s quick to say. “Regina, I think you forget that I lived through your reign. I kept out of the way and I kept a low profile, but just like everyone else, I was well-aware of the body count.” He sighs as he reaches for her hand, and she barely feels his fingers slide up over hers. “I know who you are and I’m not afraid of you. I know what lies in your past and…” He sighs. “I still love you.” A low and somewhat uncomfortable laugh rises into his voice as she looks up. “I don’t like a lot of the things you’ve done, but I’ve accepted that my girlfriend has a murderous streak and…”

“How?” She asks, her voice shaky but sincere. “How can you just… disregard that?”

“Because that’s not who you are anymore,” he says easily. “I don’t have to love the things you’ve done to love you.”

“That seems… dangerous,” she says, taking a breath as she thinks of the note in her bag. “You’re taking my word that I’ve changed. How do you know that… I won’t just… go back?”

“Well, I… guess I can’t know,” he tells her. “But I love you and I trust you, and… over the years, I’ve watched how you’ve changed. And I don’t believe for a second you’d do anything that would lead to Henry getting hurt.” He pauses, giving her hand a quick and reassuring little squeeze. “I remember when you first brought Henry to Storybrooke. I remember how you looked at him and,” a soft grin pulls onto his lips, “The way you used to rub his foot to comfort him and… I remember how sad you were when you let him go.”

“How could you… know those things?”

“Like I said, I spent years working up the courage to talk to you and… I spent a lot of time… looking for an opportunity.” A small grin tugs up from the corner of her mouth. “And I know better than most how guilty you feel for what happened to him after you let him go, how much you love him now and…” He shrugs and again gives her hand a little squeeze. “I trust that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. You’d never let anything hurt him.”

“That’s a lot of blind trust…”

“I disagree that it’s blind.”

“I… don’t think I’ll ever understand why you love me,” she says as a smile draws onto her lips. “But I’m glad that you do.”

“And you know that there’s nothing you could do or say to change that, nothing lying in your past that could change it.”

“You seem awfully sure of that.”

“I am,” he says with a confident nod. “When you love someone, you don’t just stop.”

“Ever?” She asks, her grin once again tugging up onto her lips, “Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy?”

“Even then,” he says with a soft laugh.

Her eyebrow arches, “Even when _I’m_ the one rolling my eyes and calling you crazy?”

Laughing out, he leans over and drops a feathery kiss over her cheek. “Especially then,” he says pulling back and winking, “Most especially then.”

Sighing, she nods, reaching up and drawing him back to her. “I love you,” she murmurs into a kiss. “I… don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You won’t have to find out.”

“Good,” she says, sucking gently at his lips and willing herself to forget about the note in her bag and enjoy the moment. His tongue slips between her lips and she smiles into the kiss. She hadn’t meant to confess what she did or for their conversation to take the turn it had—really, she’d only meant to tell him that it was her sessions with Archie that helped her to decide that she wanted to adopt a child, that it had been her sessions with Archie that propelled her to New York, that it’d been those sessions that taught her how to love—but she was glad for the turn it had taken, glad for his understanding and his empathy and his steadfast but undeserved faith in her.

And she could only hope that she wouldn’t disappoint him and prove herself unworthy.

_____

Henry clutches her hand tightly as she leads him into Dr. Hopper’s office. She can feel his little fingers pressing into her skin and tightening with each step they take; nonetheless, he follows her lead and he doesn’t protest. She signs in his name with his secretary, then they settle on two chairs in the empty waiting room—and still, he clutches her hand.

“How’d that math test go,” she asks, in an attempt to break the silence, hoping to distract him for a couple of minutes.

“I… don’t know,” he says, looking up at her. “I answered all of them, but…” He shrugs. “I never know.”

“Did you check your work like we showed you?”

 “It’s just… harder without the blocks that Robin uses,” he tells her, sighing a little as he looks up at her. “Mom? Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“Do you think… I’m… crazy?”

“What?”

“Because of my nightmares? Because they… won’t stop.”

“Henry, no,” she says, her heart aching as her eyes meet his. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“I went to a therapist once before,” he says, looking down at his lap. “In New York. And the… the school psychologist used to call me in and talk to me sometimes.” He pauses and she watches him take a breath, watching as his little shoulders rise and fall. “They… they didn’t believe me.”

“What… didn’t they believe?” She asks in a careful voice, her jaw tightening at the thought of Henry literally crying for help, desperate to get out of a terrible situation and being ignored and cast aside again and again.

“Things that I said happened,” he murmurs quietly. “Nightmares that felt real… almost too real.” Again her jaw tightens, but her thumb rubs gently at his palm. “I think they always thought I was making stuff up.”

“This won’t be like that,” she says, wishing more than anything he’d open up and tell her more, that he didn’t keep things bottled up or make vague mentions of things, that he wasn’t so concerned with everyone else’s feelings, that wasn’t concerned with hers. “I promise.”

“How can you know for sure?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No,” he murmurs quietly as a little grin pulls into his lips. “You haven’t.”

“Then why would I start now?”

He nods as his grin stretches wider. “Mom, can we make a big dinner tonight?”

“A big dinner?” She asks, smiling as he nods. “Even though it’ll just be the two of us?”

“Yeah, I… just… that’s always fun,” he says, giving her a bashful look. “I really like cooking with you.”

Leaning in, she presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I love that you like cooking with me,” she tells him. “We can make whatever you want for dinner.” Pulling back, she gives his hand a little squeeze. “Anything specific you have in mind?”

She watches as he considers and she can’t help but smile when his eyes light up. “You know that kind of chicken that has ham and cheese stuffed inside of it and covered with bread crumbs?”

“Seriously?” Regina blinks. “You want… chicken cordon bleu?”

“Is that chicken with ham and cheese stuffed inside of it and covered with bread crumbs?”

“It is,” she says with a little laugh. “Are you sure you’re really eight and not sixty-eight?”

Henry giggles. “We should make mashed potatoes, too. And those syrupy carrots you make and for desert…” Regina laughs out and again presses another kiss to the top of his head. “…we could make apple pie with vanilla ice cream.”

“Well,” she beings as she pulls back to look at him. “We don’t have carrots or ice cream, but I could always swing by the grocery store and pick those things up while you’re with Dr. Hopper.”

Henry grins. “Then we could get started as soon as we get home.”

“We could.”

“And can we… not make it all about fractions and adding measurements today?”

“Deal,” she nods as Archie’s door opens. “But don’t think we won’t be back to practicing fractions tomorrow.”

Henry nods and sighs, as he looks to Archie who smiles warmly. “You must be Henry,” Archie says, extending his hand to Henry. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve known your mom for a long time.”

“You have?” Archie nods and Regina squeezes his hand, and slowly, he lets go of her to shake the doctor’s hand. “I thought you just saw him a couple of times.”

“I did,” Regina answers, giving him a quick wink. “A couple… hundred or so times.”

Henry giggles. “We really have to practice your wink.”

“Among other things,” Regina tells him as he slides from the chair.

She watches him follow Archie into his office and she feels something stirring inside of her. Though she knows that this is something between Henry and Archie, she hates not knowing and she hates that something regarding her son is out of her control.  Letting out a shaky breath, she stands and looks to the woman behind the front desk. Hesitating for a moment, she tells her she has a couple of errands to run and that she’ll be back before the end of her son’s appointment. The secretary nods and she feels a tightening at her core as she walks out of the office.

As she collects the necessary groceries for Henry’s dinner menu, she wanders through the store, unable to stop thinking about what he said in the waiting room. It breaks her heart and makes her blood boil that he spent his earliest years enduring so much trauma; and that when he asked for help, in the only way he knew how, he’d gone to the right people, but all of those people had ignored him.

The guilt she feels is overwhelming and as she makes her way to the checkout, she can’t help but remind herself that it didn’t have to be this way. Had she kept him, he would have grown up in loving home and he’d have wanted for nothing. Pressing her eyes closed she takes a breath, remembering how she’d cried for days and days after giving him up, how she’d known in her heart it’d been the wrong decision, and how she hadn’t trusted herself enough to believe that.

When her groceries are bagged she reaches into her bag in search of her wallet and when she does, her fingers touch to note she’d written out that morning. Slowly, she draws it out of her bag, looking at the name on the front and the address beneath it—and again, she feels that familiar rage bubbling within herself. Quickly, she pays and grabs her bag, all the while caught up in Henry’s tears and his nightmares and the unwavering belief he’d grown up with—the belief that everything he’d endured was his fault and deserved. Smiling curtly at the cashier, she walks back toward Archie’s office—and this time, she drops the note into the mail.

_____

Regina can’t help but smile as Henry kneels on a stool at the counter, hammering pieces of chicken.

He hasn’t told her much about his session with Archie, only that it was _okay_ and _better than expected_. But he didn’t protest when she’d scheduled an appointment for the following week and he chattered on and on about the dinner they’d be making, double checking that they had enough syrup for the carrots and that she bought ice cream for the pie and giggle when she’d replied that _of course_ they had _apples_ at home to make the pie.

She took the pieces of chicken as he flattened them and layered in slices of ham and cheese, then passed them back to him to roll. He giggled as he stuck tooth picks into them, and then he lined them up on a tray as she mashed the potatoes. Carefully, he followed her instructions as he made pie crust—and it was well-past seven when they slid the pie into the oven and sat down at the table with their meal.

Henry quickly launched into a story about school—leaving out any details about his math test—and explaining that that they’d learned about mosaics and would be making one the following afternoon. She grinned as he told that he wanted his mosaic to be of a fish—and when she asked him why, he giggled and said he didn’t know; then, he continued on, recapping recess and story time, and telling her about his new tablemates.

Once dinner was done, they cleared away their plates and packed all of the leftovers into containers. Henry made his own lunch—a sampling of everything they’d had for dinner—and then, turned his attention to the oven. As she put away the leftovers, a smile stretched over her lips as he reached up and turned on the oven light, watching as the pie finished baking.

“Do you have room for that?” She asks, coming up behind him and pulling him back against her legs. “You ate quite a bit at dinner.”

“I always have room for pie,” he replies, blinking up at her as if she’d asked something that was completely ridiculous. “And ice cream.”

Sighing, she shakes her head. “What was I thinking?” She feels Henry watching as she moves to the cabinet, pulling out two small plates before reaching for forks. When the oven timer buzzes, Henry’s practically bouncing and he hands her her oven mitts and watches as slowly withdraws the pie. “So, do we let it cool or…”

“Why would we do that?”

“I don’t know,” she laughs, as Henry pulls open the freezer and leans up onto his toes to grab the ice cream. “I’m full of all sorts of silly questions today, I guess.”

“You really are,” he nods as he climbs up onto the stool beside her and pulls off the top of the ice cream container. “Mom,” he murmurs, looking up at her with wide eyes as she cuts into the pie. “Dr. Hopper told me that there’s something I should tell you.”

“Oh?” She murmurs as a knot suddenly forms in her stomach. “What’s that?”

Henry takes a breath. “That I didn’t know what it was like to be happy until I met you.” He offers her a sheepish grin as he fumbles with his hands. “He asked me what makes me happy and I said you.” Her chest clenched and she could feel warm tears brimming in her eyes as a smile stretched across her face. “He… said it would mean a lot of you know that.”

“It does,” she manages to say, taking a breath and blinking back her tears—and cutting him a even larger piece of pie.

For the rest of the night, they cuddle up on the couch together, eating their pie and ice cream, and nearly finishing _The Prisoner of Azkaban_. Henry falls asleep on her lap, his cheek pressed her shoulder and she’s perfectly content to hold him and stroke his head, and listening to his rhythmic breathing as she sleeps. Regretfully, she wakes him up for a quick shower, then she helps him into his pajamas and tucks him into bed. He falls asleep easily and she hovers, sitting at the edge of his bed caught up in how much she loves the little boy in front of her—and in the back of her mind, wondering how it was possible that anyone could not love such a sweet and beautiful child.

Finally, she gets up, turning off his Thor lamp and flicking on his Captain American nightlight, and murmuring one final goodnight before going down the hall to her own bedroom. She showers quickly the dries her hair before changing into her pajamas. She considers her options for the remainder of the evening—the work she didn’t accomplish that day at her office or reading more about the curse she desperately needed to break.

She chose the latter, padding down the hall to her office and pulling a scroll from her desk. Blinking down at it, she felt a mix of emotion, remember how she’d yearned for it, how she’d practically lusted after it, the way she’d believed so surely that it was the answer she’d been searching for. Off and on for weeks, she’d been painstakingly been translating the scroll, hoping that in some detail in the instructions for casting the curse would be a hint of what was needed to break it—or what would happen when it did. She knew that it was working—it had been the scroll that made her wonder if the Savior was really needed and it was the scroll that made her realize that getting the Savior’s son to believe in something magical was the first step in toward her ultimate goal. But since then, her progress seemed to have stalled; and every time the clock on Main Street ticked, she was reminded that was running out of time.

She flinched as her cell phone buzzed on her desk, suddenly jarred back into the present moment.

A grin stretched over her lips as Robin’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hey,” she said, swiping her finger across the screen. “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.”

“I know, and I know you wanted tonight with Henry,” he murmured easily. “But I just finished tucking Roland in and reading him a story, and I realized that likely meant that you’d just finished tucking Henry in and reading him a story, so… I figured I might not be intruding.”

“You’re not,” she confirms, leaning back her chair. “I’m glad you called.”

“How did things go today?” He asks, in a tentative voice. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Fine,” she murmurs back. “Henry didn’t say much, but he seemed to like Archie and was… very excited about making dinner with me.” She laughs a little. “He requested chicken cordon bleu.”

Robin sighs and chuckles softly. “Why is it that your child requests food like that and mine requests dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and fries… then scowls when I make sweet potato fries and will only eat them if they’d covered in cheese?”

“I have plenty of leftover food,” she tells him. “I could… bring you lunch tomorrow.”

“Lunch as in _actual_ lunch or lunch as in _lunch_ ,” he asks, his voice dropping an octave on the word and she can practically see his eyebrows shrugging suggestively. “Because I wouldn’t say no to either of them, but both would be especially nice.”

“Actual lunch,” she says, a smile stretching over her lips. “Thanks to you I have a ton of work to do.” For a moment, she pauses, letting her thoughts drift back to that afternoon. “Hey, did that oar ever get hung up?”

Robin sighs and long groan escapes him. “Don’t even get me started,” he tells her, as she laughs again.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin, Regina and the boys fall into familiar new routines; and Regina’s nightmares persist as she struggles to find a way to break the curse. All the while Valentine’s comes and goes.

It was a typical Tuesday. Regina had picked up Henry from school after tutoring, and they’d gone to the grocery store. He helped her pick out the things on her list—running excitedly down the aisles in a way that always humored her and standing on the back of the cart as she wheeled him to the next item. And when they got home, they started preparing for dinner, waiting for Robin and Roland to arrive.

They chatted about the day. Henry told her all about a game of Red Rover that was played at recess and how he’d enjoyed the roast beef sandwich she’d made him for lunch and how one of his friends offered to trade a pizza Lunchable for it—something she’d come to know was pure gold in the third grade world. But when she’d asked about school itself, he’d sighed and shook his head, and he told her he didn’t want to talk about it just then. She pressed further and he offered her a lopsided little grin and ensured her everything was fine as he shifted uncomfortably—and before she could  ask again, there was a light knock at the door.

Once Roland and Robin arrived—with overnight bags in hand—everyone’s attention shifted to dinner. Roland was hungry and Robin brought a cake, and Henry was all too happy to help him frost it. And when dinner was ready, the boys set the table as Robin and Regina plated the food—and then it was time for clean-up and desert.

Robin cut slices of cake for the boys as Regina started to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher, and once they were happily enjoying their cake, he turned to the sink to help her. She grinned as his hip knocked against hers, gently pushing her away from the sink, and taking over the rinsing so that she could focus on loading—and when he picked up a particularly grimy pan that would take more than a light rise to clean off, she looked back over her shoulder at the boys, still enjoying their cake.

 “You never told me what happened at school today,” Regina says as her eyes focus on Henry and Robin reaches for a scrub brush. “You said we’d talk about it later, but... we haven’t.”

Henry sighs as he looks up from his slice of cake and his eyes roll. “We started something new in Language Arts today.”

“But that’s your favorite subject…”

Henry nods and sighs again—and this time his eyes roll, earning a soft chuckle from Robin. “Ms. Blanchard is making us do a unit on fairy tales,” he says as Regina’s eyes slide to Robin and his to her. “It’s going to be all… stupid princess and royal balls and gross kisses at midnight.”

Regina feels her stomach clench as her jaw tightens. “Well, not… all fairy tales are like that.”

“No,” Robin interjects. “There are stories of dragons and ogres and…”

Henry’s arms fold skeptically over his chest. “Not the ones Ms. Blanchard will pick,” he tells them. “You should have seen her. She was all starry eyed and…” Instinctively, Regina’s eyes roll—she knows the exact look he’s talk about. “…and she told us today that we’re going to have a _cotillion_.”

“That’s so cool,” Roland cuts in, his mouth full of cake. “I wish my class was getting one.”

Henry’s eyes narrow as he turned his attention to Roland. “What?”

“It’d be so cool to have one as a class pet!”

Henry blinks and in spite of her churning stomach, she feels a giggle bubbling in her chest. “I… don’t think you know what a cotillion is.”

“Yes, I do,” Roland says, looking between them all. “It’s like a lizard that changes colors and stuff.”

Robin laughs out. “That’s a _chameleon_ , Roland, not a _cotillion_. A cotillion is like a… dance.”

“Like the chicken dance?”

“No,” Robin says, still laughing as he shakes his head. “Like… a ball. Like the one in Cinderella.”

“Oh,” Roland murmurs as Henry sighs. “Ewww.”

“Maybe it… won’t be so bad,” Regina says, reaching for the dishwasher soap as she takes a breath and looks to Henry. “This might be like the Thanksgiving Play. You didn’t think you’d have fun at that, and… then you did.”

“I… don’t think so,” he says as he stabs is fork into his cake. “I… have to dance with a girl.”

“Ewww,” Roland says again as he bites into his cake. “I’m sorry.”

Regina turns the dial on the dishwasher and then wipes her hands on one of the cloths as Robin leans forward, placing his elbows beside Henry’s cake. “Which girl?”

“Paige.”

“The one who sits at your table?”

Henry nods and his cheeks flush, “Yeah, she’s really nice… and pretty.”

“Then why don’t you want to dance with her?”

“Because,” he sighs, his brow creasing as Regina’s finger dips into the frosting of his cake and Roland giggles. “I… don’t know how to dance. _She_ takes ballet classes. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

Before she can assure him that he’ll likely learn at school and that Paige probably doesn’t know how to do this particular dance either, a smile stretches across Robin’s lips. “Well, it’s a good thing that I do.” He offers Regina a wink as he pulls Henry off his stool. “I’ll teach you.”

“Now?” Henry asks with wide eyes as he reaches for his cake. “Don’t you have to… I don’t know… wait an hour after eating or something?”

“That’s swimming,” Robin laughs as he reaches for Roland. “Come on…”

Regina follows watches as the boys stand in the center of her living room and Robin pushes aside the furniture, looking doubtfully between each other. She leans against the frame of the doorway, the knot in her stomach loosening as Robin moves to the stereo and selects something to play.

“This sounds like the music at the dentist,” Roland mutters, scrunching his nose as he looks to Henry, who only shrugs.

“Turn toward each other,” Robin tells them—and she watches the boys exchange glances.

“I… don’t see why I have to learn to dance,” Roland says. “I’m not the one having a chameleon.”

“Cotillion.”

“Whatever.”

“Roland’s not a girl, anyway,” Henry says slowly, as he between Roland and Robin. “I need to know how to dance with a girl. It’s… different.”

Robin sighs as his eyes shift to Regina, and she watches as a warm grin pulls onto his lips. “Your mom’s a girl. Would you dance with her?”

“I’d even dance with her,” Roland says as he flops back onto the couch.

Henry giggles a bit and nods, and he turns to watch Regina come into the room. “I’m… not very good at this,” she tells them. “It’s been… a very long time since I’ve danced with anyone and I’m not sure that I remember how.”

“It just so happens I am a very good teacher.”

“That’s true,” Henry says with a nod. “He did the impossible. He taught me long division.”

“He also taught me how to shoot an arrow without hurting anyone,” Roland adds.

Regina laughs as her hands slide over Henry’s shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. “Okay, teach away.”

She grins down at Henry as he looks to Robin. “So, the first thing, you don’t want to get too close,” he says. “My mother used to tell me there should be enough room for her between me and the young lady I was dancing with…”

“Your… mother taught you to dance?” She asks, rhetorically as her heart flutters a little at the thought of Robin as a boy in Sherwood Forest, leaning to dance by standing on his mother’s feet and holding onto her apron strings. “That’s… so sweet.”

“I… hated it then, but those are very fond memories now,” he tells her with a wink, before turning his attention back to Henry. “So, take a step back.” Henry does as he’s told and then looks between them, as Robin nods. “Good, now hold out your left arm,” he says, his eyes sliding to Regina. “You, too.”

“Oh… right,” she murmurs as she presses her hand to Henry’s and her fingers lace down through his. “And my other hand goes around his shoulder…”

“Yes, exactly.” Henry grins a little awkwardly as he blinks up at her, and Robin situates his other hand on her waist. “Now, you have to act as a guide.”

“But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Step forward, and you…”

“Step back,” Regina injects with a grin. “I remember.”

“Good,” Robin says, watching as Henry steps. “Now left…” Henry giggles and looks down at his feet. “And back, the right and…” Robin laughs a little as Henry concentrates on his feet. “You’re doing great, now… again. Forward, left, back and right… there you go.”

Henry smiles up at her—and she finds him unexpectedly bright-eyed, and for that moment, it’s so easy to get lost in his happy smile.

____

Regina falls asleep easily—Robin is breathing rhythmically at her side, and down the hall Henry and Roland are tucked in. As she drifts to sleep, thinks of Henry’s giggle as they slowly moved around the carpet—and in spite of everything looming, she’s glad that the most troubling thing in his day was worrying about impressing a little girl in his class.

Her eyes flutter open and she squints, feeling a rush of cool air—and when her eyes adjust to the dark, she’s no longer in her bedroom. Swallowing hard, she looks around in search of Robin, but he’s not there with her—and she can’t help but think that has to be a mistake. She takes a few steps forward, and it’s only then that she feels the weight of whatever it is that she’s wearing—and her hands begin to explore, feeling over the thick, scratchy tulle of a full skirt.

It doesn’t make sense—none of it makes sense—and she feels a sense of panic seeping in. She looks around wildly in search of someone—and she takes another step—and then her foot touches to something firm. Letting out a shaky breath, she presses her eyes closed—and when they open again, her breath catches in her throat, and she takes in the carnage.

There are bodies everywhere—bloody and lifeless—and smoldering flames in the distance. There’s not a sound to be heard outside of herself—the fast-paced thumping of her heart and the little whimpers that escape her as she makes her way through what seems like a sea of lifeless bodies. Tears fill her eyes as she realizes what she’s done—and then she hears a rustling.

Spinning in the direction of the noise, her eyes search the darkness, looking for some sign of life, some glimmer of hope. She moves toward the sound, still not seeing anything or anyone, and she pray to any higher being that might be listening—but for what, she doesn’t know.

“Don’t hurt me,” says a familiar little, distant voice. “Please.”

Her heart sinks as she turns her head sharply—and a few feet away from her, she sees a terrified little boy, staring back at her with tears shimmering in his hazel eyes.

“Henry!” She calls, reaching out into the darkness for a boy who isn’t actually there. Her heart races as she looks around the bedroom, watching the way the moonlight streams in through the window and illuminates a patch of carpet. Taking a deep breath, she feels tears flood her eyes, haunted by the fearful way Henry had looked at her. Lying back, she lets out a shaky breath—and then the lamp turns on.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs groggily, as he rolls onto his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…”

“Had a nightmare,” he supplies as she nods. “Come here.” She slides toward him and he rolls onto his back, pulling her down into his chest as his arms wrap around her. He drops a couple of kisses over the top of her head and his hands rub up and down her back. “You’re okay,” he tells her. “It was just a dream.”

“But… it… it wasn’t,” she admits in a small voice. “It was… a memory.”

“Ah…”

“But Henry was there and he… he saw what I’d done and he…”

“Shhh…”

“He was so afraid.”

“It’s okay,” he says again. “Memory or not, it wasn’t real.”

“But…”

“Shh…” He murmurs as his hand slips to the small of her back. “It’s over now.” He presses a kiss to her hair, and holds her for a minute or two. Her eyes close and she listens to the soft beat of his heart—and there’s something so soothing about having him so near. “Per Henry’s instructions, I am supposed to take you down to the kitchen and warm up some milk and honey.”

“That is how we generally treat nightmares around here,” she murmurs quietly. “But, you don’t have to…”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I will.”

A small smile edges onto her lips as she tips her head up. “This is making me feel better.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “How, um… how of often does this happen?”

“I… don’t know,” she lies, not wanting to admit that she barely remembers the last time she had more than one full night’s rest. “Occasionally.”

“Once, twice? Nightly?”

She blinks and looks away, pressing her head back to his chest to listen to his heart beat. “Something like that...”

“And… what do you do?”

“Try to go back to sleep,” she admits quietly. “Sometimes Henry’s up—that’s when we have milk and talk—but mostly, I just try to go back to sleep.”

“Does that work?”

“No.”

He sighs and hugs her a little tighter. “Call me.”

“What?”

“The next time this happens, if I’m not here, I want you to call me.”

Lifting her head, she rests her chin on his chest. “I can’t do that. I can’t just wake you up every…”

“I want you to,” he cuts in. “You… shouldn’t have to suffer in silence.” He grins a little and combs his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I love you. I want to help.”

“I love you, too,” she murmurs, “But… I just…”

“Let me help.” With a sigh, she nods and lies back down against him. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he says. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about… something else?”

“Sure,” she breathes out, pressing her eyes closed. “Talk about something.”

“Okay,” he begins in a tentative voice—and then she feels a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “We could talk about the birthday you had last week that you didn’t tell anyone about.” Her head lifts and her eyes widen—she didn’t know that he knew—and before she can ask, a grin tugs up from the corners of his mouth. “I read your story, remember? And, I took notes.”

“You… took notes.”

“Yes,” he says with a nod, “Because as much as I love and trust you, I’ve come to realize that when it comes to information about yourself, you are often an unreliable courier of information.”

“I… am not.”

“You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you always see just the bad and you always ignore the good…” She lifts his head to protest, but his finger presses to her lips. “All I’m saying is that you’re hard on yourself.” He grins. “Though it would have been nice to spoil you for day, I… think I understand why you didn’t want to celebrate.”

“It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to, I just… after all these years of living under the curse, things like birthdays stopped mattering.” Robin nods and she sighs a little. “But I have to admit, even though no one knew, I had a pretty fantastic birthday this year.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says as a small grin creeps onto her lips. “You and Roland were over for dinner and we had apple pie, and… I got to pick the movie… and…” she laughs a little, “I couldn’t have asked for better birthday.”

“I’m glad,” he murmurs as he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. “And I suppose I could find another day to spoil you… perhaps on Valentine’s Day?” Her eyes widen a little. “Is it okay that I made reservations?”

“Oh, I… I don’t know that I want to leave…”

“I made _lunch_ reservations,” he cuts in to clarify. “I was thinking that since it’s a Friday and I don’t have to tutor, we could both take the afternoon off and celebrate together, and then we could pick up the boys and celebrate with them after school.” His grin brightens. “We could make heart shaped pasta and caprice salad and… decorate sugar cookies with them and…” His voice trails off. “What do you think?”

“I… think that sounds perfect.”

“Then, it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” she says, as she inhales a long breath, then slowly exhales it as she cuddles back into him. “Robin,” she asks after a few minutes. “Can you… keep talking?”

“Yeah, of course,” he replies without questioning it, “Whatever you want.”

Closing her eyes, she takes long breaths, slowly releasing them as she listens. His voice is soothing and his touches methodical, and she can’t help but feel comforted—and there’s something so freeing in that. For so long, she’d considered the nightmares that tormented her night after night to be her penance; they were the price she paid for her sins—and thought she didn’t necessarily disagree with that, the temptation of Robin’s comfort was too great, and she was too weak to resist it.

His words bled together as her eyes grew tired, and felt herself drifting back to sleep, no longer feeling guilty or afraid. She felt Robin’s hand stop as he pulled himself up a little and her eyes fluttered, just as the door pushed open.

“Mom?”

“Henry,” she murmurs, pulling herself up.

“I saw the light on and…” he fidgets in the door way as he looks between her and Robin. “And I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “Do you want to talk about it?” He shakes his head and before she can say anything else, Robin pulls back the covers and pats the bed. Henry hesitates for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip as a warm smile stretches onto Robin’s lips. She looks from Henry to Robin, then back again, watching as Henry takes a tentative step forward. She slides away from Robin as he reaches for Henry, lifting him into the bed and settling him in the center. Immediately, Regina’s arms wrap around him and he cuddles into her. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Positive,” he says in a decisive voice as he cuddles closer. “Can I sleep in here?”

“Of course…” Regina murmurs glancing over the top of Henry’s head and grinning appreciatively at Robin, who offers her a wink before rolling over and turning off the lamp.

Her cheek rests atop Henry’s head and she traces circles against his flannel clad back—and finally, she feels his breathing even out, and finally, she can close her eyes—then, just as she does, the door creeks open again.

“Why is everyone in here?” Roland asks as he walks to the center of the bed.

Robin sighs, then laughs; and once again, he peels back the covers and pats the bed—but before he can lift Roland, Roland jumps onto the bed, and neither she nor Robin can keep themselves from laughing.

____

She’s lost track of the hours she’s spent in Archie’s office—hours waiting and in session, hours pacing in front of his office building, hours wondering just how much she could reveal without sounding too crazy, even for a psychiatrist. Though, in spite of never being truly honest with him in their sessions—never revealing the source of her nightmares or the sordid past that plagued her even in her waking hours—they’d helped.

And she reminded herself of that every time she sat in Archie’s waiting room, waiting for Henry.

Finally the door opened and Archie led Henry out, and they both offered her a little smile—and she felt a small pang of guilt as she smiled back and held out her hand to her son. He took it easily, his little fingers folding around her palm as Archie waved goodbye, and chattered on about his session, not really telling her much and focusing on irrelevant details—and not at all aware that the next morning, she’d be back in Archie office to go over his notes, just as she had after each of his sessions. In some ways, that felt like a betrayal of trust—Henry believed that his sessions were private, that what he told Archie stayed between the two of them—but she was far too concerned to be kept out of the loop; and, as she often reminded herself, these Thursday morning meetings had been Archie’s suggestion, not hers.

“So,” she cuts in as they step outside, “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“I’m starving,” he tells her, as he pulls his hat down around his ears. “I’ll eat anything.”

“I’m pretty hungry too,” she replies, casting her eyes down Main Street. “Do you want Granny’s? We have…”

“I _always_ want Granny’s,” he interjects, offering her a wide grin. “Can I get a milkshake?”

“Sure…”

Henry swings their hands back and forth as they walk toward the diner, and he fills in her on everything that happened in his day. He tells her about the Valentine’s art project they got to do—explaining that he chose to paint his hearts green because he chose a black background, and decided that meant they were alien hearts—and then he seamlessly transitions into other stories. He tells about a spelling test that he got an A on, and he tells her about the kickball game they played in gym—and heart beat skips when informs that he didn’t cry when he skinned his knee.

When they get to the diner, he runs ahead of her, claiming a booth in front of the window. Ruby hands her two menus and sets two glasses of water down on the table, letting them know she’ll be back in a few minutes to take their order.

“Did… anything else happen at school?” She asks, handing him a menu, not want to ask directly about the fairy tale unit his class was supposed to start—and she hadn’t quite made up her mind about how she felt about it. “Maybe something you… weren’t really looking forward to?”

Henry blinks a few times as he considers—and then his eyes light up. “Oh, yeah!” He exclaims as he turns away from her and reaches into his backpack. “I got my math test back today,” he says, turning back to her and handing her a folded piece of paper, that slowly takes from him. “Look.”

She watches him as she unfolds the paper, and then, her eyes cast down—and immediately, her breath hitches in her throat. At the top of the test next to his name, in pink glittery ink is an 80%, with a smiley face in the center of the zero. There’s a sticker on the page with a little note—also written in pink glitter—and the note is full of compliments and praise. Taking a breath, she reads it a second time—and no matter what history she and Snow White have, she’ll never be able to thank her enough for caring about Henry the way that she does.

“I got a Batman sticker,” he says, almost shyly.

“I see that,” she replies, taking a breath and laughing a little as she fights back proud tears. “This is going on the refrigerator when we get home.”

Henry giggles. “Is there room?”

“We’ll make room.”

He giggles again as Ruby come back to the table, a pen and notepad in hand, ready to take their order—and Regina laughs as Henry orders a cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake, and then lowers his voice and asks for extra whipped cream. Ruby offers him a wink and tells him she’ll see what she can do, and then turns to Regina to take her order.

Henry continues to tell her about his day, all through dinner; and not once, does he make a mention of fairy tales. By the time they’re done and the bill is paid, the sky is dark, making it seem much later than it is. Henry takes her hand again, as they walk back to her car at City Hall, swinging it back and forth as he goes on about how excited he is to start _The Goblet of Fire—_ and how he thinks this might be his favorite. She reminds him that he’s said that about all of the Harry Potter books, and he just giggles, unconcerned with that particular detail.

As they pass a mailbox, Regina stops and reaches into her purse, carefully drawing out an envelope and concealing the front of it with her gloved hand. She drops it into the mailbox quickly and she’s glad when Henry doesn’t ask about it as they turn toward the parking lot in front of City Hall.

“Mom?” He asks in a suddenly tentative voice as they reach the car. “I… need to tell you something.” Regina blinks, and looks over at him as she unlocks the car, opening his side first. “Dr. Hopper said I should tell you… that… that I made up my mind about what I want to do.”

“What you want to do…” she repeats, not quite following. “What do you mean?”

“I… I think I… I want to… meet her,” he says as he fumbles with his fingers and focuses his attention at his feet. “I mean, I just… I think…”

“Her,” Regina repeats, her stomach suddenly tightening. “You mean your birth mother?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…”

“Is that still okay?” He asks, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Because if it’s not then I don’t want…”

“No, no, no,” she cuts in. “It’s still okay.”

“You’re sure?” A small smile tugs onto her lips, and she nods. “Dr. Hopper thinks that… that it might give me closure.”

Regina takes a short breath, and again finds herself nodding. “It might.”

“You’re not… mad?”

“No,” she says, crouching down in front of him. “I’m not mad.” Taking his hands in hers, she gives them a squeeze and then presses a kiss to his cheek. “Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get in touch with her, okay?” Henry nods, and she can see that he’s still unsure. “But, I want you to know that… she might not want to.”

“I know,” he says. “Dr. Hopper said that, too.”

“You have a closed adoption…”

“I know,” he says again. “I just… want to try.”

“Then we’ll try,” she tells him simply, leaning in once more to kiss him. “Now, let’s go home—with any luck, we can get two chapters in tonight.”  She offers him a wink as she stands up and her stomach tightens yet again as a small smile edges onto Henry’s lips.

_____

She couldn’t help the yawn that escaped her as she turned the page of an old leather bound book—a  book that made her smile for all the wrong reasons. It seemed like a life time ago Maleficent had given it to her—a gift of encouragement at the beginning of their too-brief love affair, and a book filled with old magic and obscure spells. She remembers the way she poured over the handwritten pages, admiring the way the ink looked on the parchment and the gold-edged pages; and remembering the heartening way Maleficent explained, how they’d practiced and how she’d slowly found herself believing that all the answers could be found in magic.

But eventually, just like their love affair, magic lost a bit of its shiny allure—and she was no longer sure it could be her salvation; and just as she’d realized then, she now realized she’d found yet another dead end and another promising spark extinguished.

Feeling her frustration bubbling up, she took a long, deep breath and pushed the book away—and from the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of the little clock in the corner of her computer screen. And a slight smile begins to tug onto her lips.

The night before she and Robin had spent about hour or so on the phone, planning out their Valentine’s Day. He’d kept laughing about their lack of spontaneity and she’d kept insisting she found the careful planning he always put into their time together sweet—and admittedly, a bit of a relief.

He’d made reservations at the Chop House a few buildings down from his shop, and they’d agreed to meet there just before noon—and then, she asked if he’d want to go back to her house for a little alone time. She’d barely been able to contain her smile as she asked him—and in his voice, she could almost hear that he was smiling, too. For the first time in her life, she’d bought a matching set of lingerie that was someone else was meant to see—and her smile deepened as she thought of Robin’s expression when he saw her in it—and the effect it might have. Then of course, they’d pick up the boys from school and spend the rest of the evening eating heart-shaped pasta for dinner and frosting sugar cookies as a movie that one of the boys picked out played.

And she could hardly wait for any of it.

Rolling her shoulders she got up from behind her desk, stretching out her arms as another yawn escaped her—and once more, she tried to push away her exhaustion. The night before, Henry had gone to bed early with a headache; and then, a few hours later, he awoke breathless and in tears. She’d gotten up with him and crawled into his bed, and they read together for a little while. Eventually, Henry fell asleep, cuddled into her side and stretched out on the small twin bed, and she’d lied beside him, awkwardly formed around him, awake with wandering thoughts—and then suddenly, it was morning.

“Knock, knock,” Robin’s voice calls as his head pokes into the door and a smile stretches across his lips. “You ready?”

 “I… thought I was meeting you at the restaurant,” she replies, as her eyes widen in surprise. “We decided…”

“I know, I know,” he tells her with a nod. “That was the plan, but.. I thought it’d be nice to walk together.”

“Oh…”

“It’s nice out today, and…” he chuckles softly as he steps into the office, holding out a long-stem rose. “And I couldn’t handle John’s pathetic attempts at finding a last-minute date.” He shakes his head. “He’s resorted on hitting on customers and giving them coupons. They’re grateful for the coupons, but… not as grateful for the rest of it.”

She laughs a little as she takes the rose, smelling it as her cheeks flush slightly. “Poor John.”

“I have something for you…”

Her eyes widen a little. “We agreed no gifts.”

“It’s… not really a gift, exactly,” Robin says as his smile brightens as he draws out a little red box. “It’s just… a little something I’ve been wanting to give you, and… today seemed like a perfect day to finally do it.”

“Robin…”

“It’s nothing…”

Her eyebrow arches as she lifts off the top—and a smile curls onto her lips. “It’s a key.”

“It is a key,” he says as her eyes cast up to meet his. “It’s a key to my house,” he tells her as he shifts his weight toward her. “I… also cleared out a drawer, but I… couldn’t exactly put that in a box.”

“Robin… you didn’t…”

“I just… figured we’ve been spending so much time with each other and…” He shifts again as a chuckle rises into his voice. “I thought this would make it a little easier. You and Henry could keep some things at my place and…”

His voice trails off and her breath hitches in her throat as she leans into the tips of her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmurs as she steps back. “It’s… very thoughtful and… practical.”

“Practical,” he repeats, chuckling again as he shakes his head. “Nothing screams romantic like a _practical_ gift.” Rolling her eyes, she swats her hand at his chest and he catches it, tugging her to him before kissing her—kissing her long and deep until her head is dizzy. “So how about lunch…”

They walked together to Chop House—and for a while, she’d forgotten how tired she was—and after a heavy lunch of filet mignon and too much red wine—they found themselves back at her house. They’d barely made it up the stairs, standing at the very top. He had her pressed against the wall and fingers threaded through her hair; her heart was beating faster and faster as his hand to the back of her skirt in search of the zipper.

“Wait,” she murmurs against his lip, pushing her hand up between them as a wave of dizziness washes over her. “Just… a second.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…”

“Regina,” he murmurs, ducking down a bit to look her in the eye. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she replies, blinking a couple of times as she rolls her shoulders. “I’m fine.” Taking a step back, his hand falls from her the nape of her neck to her hand, giving her a soft tug toward the bedroom. His arms slides around her waist as she and his lips flutter over her jaw and grin pulls onto her lips. “I am absolutely fine.”

“Are you?” Her eyebrow arches as and his grin warms. “When was the last time you got a decent night’s sleep?”

She sighs. “Robin, I’m…”

“Exhausted,” he interjects. “You looked like you were ready for a nap when I walked into your office and all through lunch, every time you blinked, your eyes stayed closed longer and longer.”

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, leaning in and dropping  a kiss to her forehead. “But honestly, when was the last time you slept through the night?” Shaking her head, she shrugs—she honestly doesn’t remember. “So, how about a little change of plans, hmm?”

“I want to keep the plans we have.”

“Another time,” he tells her. “In a few hours we’re going to have two very excited and candy-fueled little boys to entertain—and, speaking from personal experience, you’ll need all the energy you can get for that.”

“But I’m…”

“Fine, I know,” he says, shaking his head, he presses his finger to her lips. “But, let’s take a nap anyway.”

“Robin,” she says shaking her head—grimacing as she feels her jaw tightening as a yawn begins. “Okay…” Moving around her he reaches for her pajamas, handing them to her as he tugs off his shirt; and with a reluctant sigh, she takes them and pulls her shirt from her skirt, watching as he undoes his belt. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs as her skirt drops to her feet and she steps into the cotton pajama shorts. “I…”

“Will give me a rain check,” he cuts in with a wink, kicking his pants away. “A rain check I insist on cashing in.” A grin pulls onto her lips as she pulls on the tank top and before can say any more, he’s reaching for her.

Her guilt is short-lived—and as soon as she lowers herself onto the bed, her head sinks into the pillow and Robin slides in beside her, stretching his arm around her as she cuddles back to him and lets her eyes close,  her guilt is gone and she’s not sure she’s ever felt anything so satisfying.

_____

She couldn’t help but laugh as Roland struggled with the plastic packaging of the heart-shaped pasta—a thick, crunchy plastic with a glossy cardboard label stapled at the top—and with every tug, he grunted and grimaced and growled. Despite his struggles, he seemed determined, not asking for help—and judging by the way Robin was biting down on his bottom lip, the show Roland was putting on was far too entertaining to stop by the offering of assistance.  Henry giggled as stuck a tooth pick with a little heart topper through a cherry tomato and little ball of mozzarella and Roland dropped the back onto the counter, breathless and annoyed. His eyes turned to Robin, who only shrugged and continued cutting the baguette that would soon be garlic bread.

“Here, sweetie,” Regina says, turning away from the boiling pot of water and reaching for the jar of utensils by the stove. “Try this.” She hands him a pair of scissors and he grins shyly as he took them from her as he takes them, and she hovers as he cuts off the top of the packaging. His grin broadens and he looks at the label. “I’m going to keep this,” he decides.

“The label to the pasta?”

Roland nods as he hands her the bag of pasta and she watches as Robin’s eyebrow arches and Henry looks up. “We have to make a collage for school next week,” he tells him. “I’m going to put this on there.”

“The label to the pasta,” Robin says again.

“Yeah,” Roland tells them as his finger traces over the edge. “We have to put stuff on it that we like.”

“If I had to make one, I’d put superheroes and books on mine,” Henry says, as he pokes another toothpick through a tomato and mozzarella ball. “And I’d draw legos.”

“So, you’re putting the _pasta label_ on yours,” Robin repeats as a slight chuckle rises into his voice. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “I like having dinners here.”

Regina looks back over her shoulder and her eyes shift quickly from Robin to Roland. “That’s sweet,” she tells him as she turns away from the stove, letting her hand slide around Roland’s shoulders. “We like having you here for dinner, too.” Leaning in, she presses a quick kiss to the top of his head—something that’s become an increasingly natural thing for her to do. “What else are you going to include?”

Roland goes onto tell them all the other things he’s collected—listing them carefully in a slow voice. Her eyes shift from Roland to Robin, whose listening with a little smirk and then to Henry, who reacts to everything with an _ooh_ or nod or some other approving gesture as he continues to stab the toothpicks through the tomato and cheese.

It’s odd to her that half of a year before, they were all practically strangers living such separate lives; when she’d brought Henry to Storybrooke, she had certain expectations of what their life together would be like. The curse was an obvious obstacle, but in the back of her head, she’d always assumed it’d be just the two of them—that the rest of the world would go on around them. And then, suddenly, there were these two other people in her lives, people she couldn’t shut out—people she didn’t want to shut out—and it became difficult to even picture a life without them.

She never anticipated there’d ever be a time in her life she had someone to rely on—someone who was consistently there, someone who consistently wanted to be there—and she’d never anticipated looking toward the future. For so long, she’d been trapped, living a different variation of the same things over and over again—and this was like a breath of fresh air.

And that afternoon had been a reminder of that—as cliché as it was.

Robin woke up her with a trail of fluttering kisses. He started at her shoulder and traveled up her neck to her jaw, letting his lips tail over her cheek to her earlobe—and slowly she’d begun to stir. She felt his hand slide against her stomach, drawing her back against him. His fingers dipped just below the band of her shoulders and his foot rubbed against her ankle—and before she was even awake, she could feel his warmth as a smile tugged onto her lips. Sighing contently, she stretched out her legs and blinked open her eyes, rolling onto her other side to face him. Her smile brightened and the tip of her nose brushed against his—and she couldn’t help but laugh out as he pulled her tight against him and rolled them over, so that he could properly kiss her. They stayed in bed together for awhile, trading soft touches for lazy kisses, and everything felt so good and so unassuming; and had they not had to pick up the boys from school, it would have been so easy to spend the rest of the day like that, so relaxed and calm, unworried about all the uncertainty that laid ahead of them.

“Oh, and I made you something,” Roland says, his attention turning to her and bringing her back into the present moment. “I almost forgot.”

“But you didn’t,” she says as Robin moves to the stove to check the sauce and Roland hops off his stool, running toward his backpack.

Henry cranes his neck and smiles curiously as he tries to see whatever Roland is pulling from his back pack and her own smile, pulls onto her lips. Stretching an arm around Henry’s shoulders, she squeezes him and offers him a little wink as Roland runs back toward them, holding out a flower made from pipe cleaners.

Her breath catches in her throat as she reaches out to accept it, unable to think of anything other than a Valentine’s day long ago, a day that only she remembers, when he’d given her the exact same flower—and he’d given her a tiny flicker of hope as he unknowingly turned a terrible evening into one that was worth remembering.

“I made it in school today,” he tells her proudly as she nods, unable to find her voice as tears flood her eyes. “I… I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he murmurs as smile fades. “I’m…”

“Oh, no,” she says, suddenly able to speak. “I’m not sad.”

“But you’re about to cry.”

“Yeah,” she nods, looking down at the flower as she sinks down in front of him. “But I’m not crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because… I…” she stops, shaking her head—Roland can’t possibly know what the flower means to her. He possibly can’t know that after she left the diner, she taken the flower home and put in a little vase on the corner of her desk, just as he can’t know that possibly know that day after day, long after he’d likely forgotten about it, she found herself looking at the flower and remember how happy that little moment at the diner had made her—and he can’t possibly know that it was his sweetness and thoughtfulness that made her wonder if the love of a child could save her. “I love this,” she tells him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Roland tells her with a satisfied smile—and then, only a second later, he becomes distracted by the gush of steam that rushes upward as Robin pour the noodles into a colander to be rinsed, indicating that dinner is almost ready.

And just like that, the little of moment of nostalgia is swept away.

Clearing her throat, she rises to her feet, watching as Henry carries his plate of carefully crafted caprese salad sticks into the dining room and Roland trails behind him. Her eyes shift to Robin as he shoves up his sleeves and almost instinctively, her eyes shift to the tattoo on his forearm. She can hear the boys laughing in the next room and Robin smiles back at her from over her shoulder—and she feels a tightening in her stomach—because for the first time in her life, she has something that would be devastating to lose.

 “You okay?”

She looks up and nods, mustering a smile as she pushes toward him and reaches for the garlic bread. He drops a quick kiss on her cheek as he lifts the bowl of pasta—and she takes a breath, reminding herself that she has time and when things are meant to be, they happen when they’re supposed to.

Her family was proof of that.

_____

The rest of the night was spent baking, decorating and, of course, eating sugar cookies.

As she and Robin cleaned up the remnants of dinner—rinsing the dishes and putting leftovers into containers—the boys rolled out the cookie dough atop the counter. She couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride bubbling up inside of her as she watched Henry showing Roland how to flour the edges of the cutters so they easily lifted from the dough and kept the shape of the cookie—something she’d taught him the first time they’d baked cookies together—and how he gently pulled Roland back away from the oven before retrieving their tray of cookies, reminding him to let them cool before touching them. Roland nodded and he inhaled a deep breath, taking in the soft fresh-baked cookie scent as Henry arranged their toppings—and finally when they were cool enough to decorate, Henry carefully carried them over to the counter.

Robin’s arms wrapped around Regina and she leaned back into him, smiling a little as they watched the boys smear the frosting over the cookies and cover them with sprinkles—and once again she found it a struggle to stay in the moment…

Before she knew it, the cookies were done and the boys created a plate of their favorites. Robin corralled them into the living room and she followed behind them, once more wondering if this, like every other Valentine’s, would just fade away as though it never existed.

The boys settle quickly on a movie—an odd choice of _Lady and the Tramp_ , which Roland insists is the perfect movie for Valentine’s while Henry shrugs his shoulders agreeably, murmuring something about never having seen it—as Robin fans a blanket down on the floor for them—and just like every other Friday night, the boys camp out in front of the TV while she and Robin settle on the couch.

Taking a shaky breath, she lets her head fall to his shoulder and he presses a kiss to her hair—and absently, her fingers trace over the tattoo on his forearm as she loses herself in thought.

There’s a part of her that feels like she’s losing her mind—and she’s been here before.

Despite the encouragement and support of Robin and her own determination, she’s made little progress in breaking the curse. And as February began to wind down and spring loomed in the no longer distant future, she knew that she was running out of time. In the weeks she’d been trying to break the curse, she’d made no progress; she didn’t even know if she was on the right path—if she was on a path at all.

When she made the decision to cast the curse all those years before, she’d learned as much as she could about it to prepare herself. It was complicated and nuanced with all sorts of intrinsic little details—and not only had she learned them all, she’d learned how to work them to her advantage. She learned how to use magical relics to create magic where there was none, learning and perfecting the science of potions and the power of energies; and she learned how to levy her power and persuasion in the new realm to which the curse had brought her.

But she’d never learned about breaking it; she hadn’t imagined there’d ever be a need.

She knew that there were a series of triggers in place—triggers that could set off a chain of events that led to the curse breaking, but she didn’t know how to manipulate them to her advantage. Her small victory in getting Henry to believe in something magical had been short-lived; and while the clock hands still ticked away, signaling the moving of time, that seemed to be very much symbolic. Every day she was reminded to the static world she lived in, and the ticking clock at the center of the town seemed more like a countdown to her inevitable failure.

“I think they’re asleep,” Robin whispers, nodding toward the boys sprawled out on a blanket.

“They’re in a sugar coma,” she says, following his gaze. “Maybe we should take them upstairs.”

“No,” Robin says as his hold on her loosens. “Leave them. They look content.”

“They do,” she agrees, as a smile tugs up onto her lips as she looks down at them. “I don’t know how they’re comfortable like that, but…” Her voice trails off and she reaches behind them, tugging a blanket off the back of the couch. She gets up and fans it out over them, kneeling down as she pushes the hair away from Henry’s forehead, leaning in to kiss him good night and whisper her love. Instinctively, she does the same to Roland, and when she looks up, Robin’s eyes are soft and warm and his hand is outstretched.

He tugs her up and nods towards the stairs, and she flicks on a dim lamp as they pass it, giving them a little bit of light, should either of them wake up. She leads him toward the kitchen, checking to make sure that Henry turned the oven off and the back door is locked—and then, she reaches for Roland’s flower. Robin grins as her arm slide around his back and she watches as he sneaks one more look at the boys as they go up the stairs.

“Wait,” she murmurs, stopping just in front of her office door. “I… want to put this on my desk.” Robin nods and followers her in, and when she turns on the light, she watches his eyes fall to the little vase at the corner of her desk that he’s seen before, but never noticed—a vase that holds the first pipe-cleaner flower that Roland gave her, all those years ago.

“When did…”

“A long time ago,” she answers, not needing to hear the question to know what he was about to ask. “I was having a rough night and… all of the sudden, there was Roland, giving me a Valentine.”

A confused smile edges onto Robin’s lips. “Why don’t I remember that?”

“You weren’t there,” she says simply. “John was with him and… up until tonight, that was the only Valentine’s Day worth remembering.” She shakes her head as she rounds her desk, opening the top drawer. “I know I said that we weren’t going to do gifts, but…”

“You didn’t,” he cuts in, his eyebrow arching. “And you yelled at me when…”

“I didn’t yell,” she interjects. “I… just reminded you.” She holds out a little red bag out to him and shakes it gently. “It’s nothing, really.”

His eyes narrow and she can’t help the quiet chuckle that escapes her as he pulls a sheet of pink tissue paper from the bag—and then, his eyebrows arch as he pulls a toothbrush from the bag. “I… don’t know what to say,” he murmurs as he looks up at her.

“I didn’t have time to make a copy of my key or clean out a drawer, and…” Her voice trails off and she shifts awkwardly as his eyes fall away from her and to the toothbrush. “I… just… it’s hard for me to look to the future right now. It’s hard for me to imagine that we even have a future because in a few months, if I don’t figure out how to break the curse, you’re going to forget all about me.”

“Regina, I won’t…”

“You will,” she interjects. “But, I just… I want you to know that when I do think about my future—or the possibility of one—you’re always there. You and me and Henry and Roland, we’re… all together and…” She shrugs as she releases a breath. “And as hard as it is to think that I might lose you—you and them—because of something I created, I… can’t regret doing it because we’re here now and that’s made it all worth it… regardless of how it turns out.”

Robin breathes out and he grins as he twirls the toothbrush between his fingers. “Some things are just… supposed to happen. You and I are one of those things.”

She nods as he drops the toothbrush back into the bag, setting it on the edge of her desk as he moves to the stereo, turning the dial until Elivs Presley’s softy and low voice fills the room. Robin laughs a little as he extends his hand—and with a sight, she rounds the desk and places her fingers in his palm.

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea; darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be…_

He pulls her close as his hand closes around hers and her head rests on his shoulder as they begin to sway to the music. She feels her throat tighten and tears brim in her eyes—and she presses them closed, willing herself to stay in the moment and enjoy it for what it is, not wanting to focus on the fragility of the little life they’ve started to create.

_So, take my hand—take my whole life, too; for I can’t help falling in love with you…_


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin breaks into Storybrooke’s library to prove a point to Regina, and inadvertently helps her to realize a possible way to break the curse; meanwhile, Regina hears back from Emma about possibly meeting Henry.

Regina takes a breath as she reaches for the knob of Henry’s door—and when she opens it, she finds him tucked into bed wearing a pair a Captain America pajamas with _The Goblet of Fire_ on his lap. His hair is still a little damp from his shower and she can smell the soap that he likes to use as she nears—and heart breaks knowing that she’s about to disappoint him. He smiles at her as he opens the book to the bookmarked page, and edges over on the bed to make room for her—and she smiles back regretfully.

“Hey,” she begins as she slides into the bed beside him and stretches her arm around his little shoulders. “Before we start reading, there’s… something I want to talk to you about.” Henry nods and tilts his head up to look at her, still completely unassuming. “I, um… I heard back from your birthmother,” she begins in a tentative voice, waiting as his eyes widen and he swallows hard.

“Did you… talk to her?”

“No,” she says quickly. “We missed each other. She returned my call and left me a voicemail.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, his brow creasing. “What did she say?”

“Well,” Regina begins, taking a breath. “When I called her, I left her a message, too, and I told her who I was and why I was calling… and I told her a little bit about you.”

“What did you tell her?”

A small smile tugs onto her lips. “I said that I’d recently adopted you and you were… bright and sweet and thoughtful, and I that loved you more than I knew it was possible to love another person.”

“That was nice of you to say.”

“It’s all true,” she says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his hair. “And I told her that you’d been struggling with… having spent so much time in the foster system, and that you wanted to meet her, that we thought it might bring you some closure and help you to… deal with things.”

“Oh…” Henry murmurs as he looks away, focusing on the book in his lap. “She doesn’t want to meet me.” Regina’s eyes sink closed and she takes a long breath, hating to have to tell him this, hating that this isn’t something she can fix and hating that she’s disappointed for reasons other than how much this will hurt him. “I should have known.”

“She didn’t say no… well… not exactly,” she says, slowly opening her eyes. “She said she wasn’t sure.”

“That means no,” Henry tells her. “That’s always what adults say when they want to say no, but don’t feel like they can.”

“I’m sorry…” Henry nods, still focusing his attention on the book; and she watches as his index finger traces over the embossed title. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I…”

“I’m sure,” he says, trying his best to sound like he wasn’t bothered, like he wasn’t upset he wasn’t upset, and like he wasn’t on the verge of tears. “It… doesn’t matter.”

Regina takes a breath, swallowing the hard lump that’s formed at the back of her throat as she presses her eyes closed—and she finds herself wondering how many times Henry has told himself that in that past—how many times he went to bed with teary eyes and a bruised heart, how many times he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter.

Her arms tighten around him and she starts to rock him—not knowing what to say, but feeling guilty for having ever suggested that they reach out to his birthmother. She should have known this wouldn’t end well—no matter how it ended. On a practical note, there was a fair chance that Emma Swan would not want to meet the baby she gave up for adoption eight years before; it’d likely been a difficult choice to make and she’d likely spent years rebuilding her life, years moving on. There’d been a reason she’d asked for a closed adoption. On a personal note, she hated that she’d ever suggested it and she wondered if her motives had been about Henry at all, or if subconsciously she’d only suggested it because bringing Emma Swan to town would do what she couldn’t—it’d start to break her curse. But the thing she felt most guilty about had nothing to do with the reason she’d suggested contacting Emma Swan and it had nothing—she felt guilty because when Emma had waivered, when she said she wasn’t sure, Regina had been relieved.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she breathes out as she presses another kiss to his hair. “I really am.”

“It’s okay,” he says, sniffling a little as he tilts his chin up. “It was worth a shot.”

“Oh, Henry…”

“Mom,” he asks, looking back to the book. “Do you think we could… skip reading tonight?”

“Skip Harry Potter?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m just… really tired. I don’t think I can stay awake long enough to even get through a chapter, and… and I don’t want to miss anything.”

Her chest clenches and she sighs—but she finds herself nodding. “Okay,” she murmurs. “No reading tonight.” Henry hands her the book, offering a shaky little sigh as she sets it onto his nightstand. “Do you want me to lay with you for a little while? I could… rub your back and…”

“No,” he cuts in. “That’s okay. Like I said, I’m just… really tired.”

“You could come into my room and we could cuddle up under…”

“I’m comfortable here,” he tells her, purposely avoiding her eyes as he fakes a yawn in an effort to hide his tears. “I just… want to turn off the light and go to bed.”

“Okay,” she says a bit reluctantly. “But if you… change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

“Okay,” she says again, slowly getting out of the bed and adjusting the comforter around his shoulders. “I love you, Henry,” she murmurs as she leans in to presses a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t,” he replies, offering a meek smile. “I love you, too.” Taking a breath, she pulls herself away from him—wanting nothing more than to stand there, hovering near him for the rest of the night, just in case he might need her—and she flicks on the nightlight. “Thanks, Mom…”

“Goodnight, Henry.”

“G’night,” he tells her as he rolls onto his side, and as she pulls the door closed, she hears a muffled little cry escape him.

She lingers there in his doorway for awhile, feeling helpless and wishing there were something she could do and wish she hadn’t had to tell him. Finally, his breathing steadies—a sign that he’s finally fallen asleep—and he seems so far away from her. Reluctantly, she turns away and heads to her own room, quickly undressing and deciding to forgo a shower. She pulls on a pair of pajamas and lays there in dark, thoughts of Henry and Emma Swan swirling through her head…

_She can’t sleep, so she gets out of bed and walks toward Henry’s room—and her brow creases when she feels a burst of cool air at her feet, coming from beneath the door. Her heart skips a beat as she pushes opened the door and her stomach drops when she sees the curtains billowing in front of the opened window._

_She goes to it, looking out and seeing only darkness. For a second, she thinks it’s all a misunderstanding—he opened the window to get some air—but when she turns toward the bed, the covers are bunched at its end and there’s still a dent in his pillow. Swallowing hard, she turns frantically around the room—and she can’t help but notice that his backpack isn’t sitting on his desk chair. He’s gone. Her knees are weak as she reaches for the phone, dialing a familiar number—and when Graham answers, she pleas for help, begging him to find her son._

_The night slowly turns to day, and there’s no sign of Henry anywhere. Graham tells her to stay at home—stay at home and wait in case he calls—and she does, in spite of how helpless it makes her feel._

_Then, just as the sun is setting, she sees the red and blue flashing lights of Graham’s squad car and she scrambles desperately to her feet. Her heart flutters and her stomach flops—an odd mix of worry and relief overcoming her as she throws open the door. Stepping out onto the porch, she smiles in spite of herself as the cold and bitter air bites at her the tear tracks on her cheeks—and she watches as Graham leads Henry to her, and a woman she can’t quite place lingers at the car._

_“Oh, Henry,” she breathes out, stooping down in front of him as her hands squeeze his arms. “I was so worried.” For a moment, he doesn’t reply—he only blinks and stares, his eyes hard and distant. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” she says, pulling him to her and in attempt to hug him—but he remains stiff and pulls away. “Why did you run away?”_

_“You know why,” he says, his voice piquing with hurt. “You lied to me.” Swallowing hard, she looks at him—and at first, she doesn’t understand; and then, from his backpack he pulls the leather bound storybook that she’s kept hidden in her desk. “You lied to everyone.”_

_“Please, Henry, just… let me… explain. I can…”_

_“I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”_

_“But, Henry…”_

_“Why should I listen to you after everything you’ve done? After all the lies you told…”_

_“Because I love you.’_

_He shakes his head as the faceless woman’s hand falls onto her son’s shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze. “You don’t know how to love.” Swallowing hard, she lets out a shaky breath as Henry takes a step back. “That was just another one of yours lies.”_

_“No,” she says, her voice desperate as she tries to reach for him. “Henry, no.”_

_Again, he steps back and this time, Graham’s arm wraps protectively around his shoulder—and she can’t help but feel betrayed. “Why are you doing this?” She asks, blinking up at Graham. “What did you tell him?”_

_“Nothing he hadn’t already figured out. He’s a smart boy. He can read between the lines.”_

_Her eyes widen and her heart beat slows, and tears well in her eyes. “Henry, you have to believe…”_

_“No, I don’t,” he says. “I don’t have to listen to anything you say. You’re not my real mom.”_

_“Henry…” she murmurs as her breath catches her in chest. “How can you…” And then she watches as Henry looks back over his shoulder to the woman waiting by Graham’s car—Emma Swan._

Regina sits up with a start, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as tears stream down he cheeks—and then, she feels a sinking feeling at her core. Throwing her feet over the edge of her bed, she rushes toward Henry’s room and when she reaches the door, she hesitates. She’s well aware that it was just a dream, well aware that on the other side of the door, Henry is tucked into his bed, sleeping just where she left him—yet, she finds herself holding her breath as a feeling of dread washes over her as she reaches for the door knob.

Pushing it open, a soft smile stretches onto her lips as she sees him in his bed—but the feeling of dread stays with her.

Stepping lightly, she moves toward him and lowers herself to the edge of the bed, adjusting the blankets around him and brushing his hair from his forehead—and she can’t help but think of how peaceful he looks, how sweet and unburdened. Leaning in, she presses a light kiss to his cheek and gets up from the bed, not wanting to disturb him.

She pads back down the hall and gets back into bed—but every time she closes her eyes, she sees Henry’s hardened eyes and hears his sharp words, and her stomach starts to churn. Rolling onto her side, she stares at the open space beside her—and she remembers that the last time she couldn’t sleep. Robin had been there and he’d pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as he stroked his hand soothingly over her back. His voice had been so methodical—rhythmic and soothing—and the steady beat of his heart had helped to calm her.

And then, she remembers his suggestion—a suggestion she’d balked at and insisted was something she could never do. At the time, she said that it’d be unfair, it wasn’t right to wake him up simply because she couldn’t sleep; but he’d been adamant—something she reminded herself of as she reached for the phone.

_____

A grin twists onto her lips as she sees him nearing—and when he stops her waiting at the front entrance of the diner, his stroll turns to a jog. Shaking her head, she chuckles to herself as his eyes brighten and his smile broadens. And when he reaches her, he presses a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, as he his nose rubs against hers and his hand finds the small of her back.

“Good morning,” he returns as he reaches around her to open the door, stealing a second kiss as she turns to enter the diner. “You know, I just realized we both just left the elementary school. We could have came here together.”

“No,” she says, as Granny motions to an open booth. “We couldn’t have.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you insist on walking everywhere and its nine degrees.”

“I’d have kept you warm…”

Her eyes roll as she hands him a menu—and a little grin tugs onto her lips. “I love you, but you don’t keep me warm in the same way that my Mercedes does.”

“I… could be offended,’ he says, opening the menu, “But I can’t feel my fingers or my thighs,” he glances up at her, “So, you may have a point.” He folds the menu shut, grabbing the attention of Ruby. “And I need some coffee.”

Ruby comes to their table and takes their order—and the few minutes later, she returns with two, steaming cups of coffee. Regina watches as Robin holds the cup, and breathes in the warm steam as his eyes close, enjoying the scent and the warmth.

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” she says, as she sips her own coffee. “We should do breakfast more often.”

“We should,” he agrees, his eyes opening and a grin stretch over his lips. “Why don’t we?”

“Something about jobs and getting kids off to school.”

“Ah, right,” he nods, bending his head to sip his coffee. “Obligations.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing this today.”

Robin nods. “After last night, I… I needed to know that you were okay.”

“I’m… fine.”

“You always are,” he murmurs, reaching out and sliding his hand over hers, giving her fingers a tight squeeze. “And how was Henry this morning?”

“His usual self,” she says with a little nod. “He woke up early and tried to convince me to read him the chapter of _Goblet of Fire_ that we didn’t read last night.”

“And did you?”

She sighs, “Of course I did.”

“You’re a good mom, Regina. Henry’s luck to have you.” For a moment, she looks up doubtfully—she loves her son and she tries to do what’s best for him, and on most days, she feels like she does okay, but she doubts that he’s _lucky_ to have her—not when the stability she’s offered him was built on such shaky ground. “You don’t believe me,” Robin says, his head tipping to the side. “You _really_ don’t believe that.”

“I think… he deserves better than what I can give him. I’ve always thought that.” Her eyes fall away from his and she focuses down on her coffee. “He doesn’t know that his mother is a tyrannical murder who…”

“Who was an absolute monarch,” he cuts in, lowering his voice. “Regina, you weren’t very different from other rulers.”

Her eyebrow arches skeptically. “And how would you know? You lived in my kingdom, you don’t have much to compare it to. Besides… you know as well as anyone what I was known for.”

“I do,” he nods. “I also know that there was always enough grain, royal taxes never went up and as long as people stayed out of your way, life wasn’t half bad,” a little grin tugs onto his lips, “My biggest gripe was the lack of indoor plumbing… not that I knew that at the time.”

“Plumbing…”

“What can I say, I enjoy my showers and…” a chuckle rises into his voice. “And I lived with nine other men and a toddler. Things going a little… smelly.”

“Still, there’s only one thing anyone remembers. And… that’s all anyone will tell Henry.”

Robin takes a breath and leans back into the booth, and she watches as his eyes narrow. “Well, that’s just not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Do you _really think_ I’m going to just let him believe the worst about you?” He grins. “Not that I’m going to have to convince him of anything. He thinks the world of you, Regina. Nothing can change that—nor should it.”

She nods—but she’s not quite sure that she believes him, not quite sure that anything will soften the blow of her past. Even if Henry can forgive her past sins, if she doesn’t break the curse, he’ll have a front row seat to the quiet suffering she’s caused. He’ll watch people he grows to care about living in a fog—never growing older, never seeing their dreams realized and living the same struggles that he’ll come to know will never ease. And even if he doesn’t immediately hold her responsible, unlike his peers, he’ll grow up and he’ll grow to resent her.

“And I can prove it to you,” Robin says, a self-assured smile stretching over his lips as Ruby brings them their food.

_____

Somehow over breakfast, he convinces her to take the morning off—insisting he has something he needs to show her, something she’ll want to see and a point he needs to prove. He won’t say anymore than that, and he shifts the conversation away from her sordid past and away from the curse, away from Emma Swan and last night’s nightmare, and to topics she finds easier to think about. He tells her how Roland suddenly wants a pet chameleon—which he still calls a cotillion—and they talk about Henry’s on-going struggle with fractions. They discuss Roland’s sudden enjoyment of hollandaise sauce—something he whole-heartedly believes is cheese thanks to Henry—and how he now enjoys asparagus and she tells him about the bow-tie pasta salad that Henry wanted them to have that night, musing about whether or not Roland will pick out the black olives or the bits of green pepper. And for a little while, she is able to forget what was looming.

By the time the bill is paid, it’s all settled and they stroll hand-in-hand down Main Street, toward a destination she doesn’t know. She makes a quip about how her secretary was likely having an enjoyable day in her absence and Robin playfully chided her about trying to be nicer; and then suddenly, they stop.

“We’re here.”

“Here,” she says, looking up at the boarded up library. “You brought me to… an abandoned building. How… charming.”

“It’s not abandoned.”

“Yes, it is,” she says flatly. “I signed paperwork to close it.” His eyes narrow and her shoulder square a bit defensively. “What? It was a budget cut. It was…”

“I realize that it’s _closed_ ; but _abandoned_ isn’t the same thing. This building isn’t _empty_. In fact, it’s quite the contrary.”

Bristling, she shifts her weight, looking up at the fading sign and the plywood that covers the windows. “Semantics aside, what are we doing here?”

“Proving a point.” Her eyes narrow and he chuckles softly, pulling off his glove and fishing for something in his pocket. “You’ll see. Now, keep a look out, okay?” She blinks, her eyes widening as Robin approaches the door and her breath catches as she hears him fumbling with the lock. Robin looks back at her, a glint of laughter in his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised. You know I have a penchant for breaking and entering.” She sighs, rolling her eyes and before she can respond, the door pushes open. “After you, M’lady.”

Regina can’t help but grin as she steps inside and Robin closes the door behind them—and then darkness surrounds them.  She squints her eyes and turns—assuming in his direction—and just as she’s about to ask how they’re supposed to find their way—the electricity was cut off years before—he flicks on a flashlight, illuminating the space between them.

“It’s not much, but it’ll have to do,” he tells her as his hand finds hers. “Come on.”

Her brow creases as she looks at the darkness around them, following his lead and trying to remember what the interior of this building looks like. She can see the little spot of light in front of him, shining onto the olive green shelves and dusty books. “You… seem to really know your way around here.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been here.”

“You’ve broken into the library before?”

“Frequently,” he says, his voice distracted as he pulls her around a corner. “The bookstore here in Storybrooke doesn’t have a very diverse selection.” She hears a chuckle rise into his voice that’s meant to mask annoyance—a tone she knows well, and a tone she finds endearing as it’s usually associated with his son. “I just never understood how a bookseller could justify selling _Old Man and the Sea_ and the Nick Adams Stories, but not any of Hemingway’s other novels or stories—not even _The Sun Also Rises_! So…I had to take measures into my own hands.”

“So you stole the books?”

“Borrowed,” he tells her, giving her hand a little squeeze. “I always return them.”

“Ah,” she nods. “What… other books have you borrowed?”

“I like the short stories—“Hills Like White Elephants” is my favorite—and, of course, _The Sun Also Rises_ , but two others I always enjoy are _To Have and Have Not_ and _For Whom the Bell Tolls_. They’re always worth a read, and…”

“You’re quite a Hemingway fan,” she says, her voice short as she cuts in. “I suppose it could be worse. You could be a smoker.”

He stops—and a grin twists onto her lips as he turns and the light shines between them. “I also have discovered an interest in biographies.”

“Biographies.”

“Yes—biographies of the lives of people far more interesting than I.”

“More interesting than _you_ ,” she says, her eyebrow arching. “You’re _Robin Hood_. Your story is one of the most legendary stories ever told.”

“Perhaps,” he says, turning back around and tugging her into one of the aisles. “But we aren’t always the best judges of our own stories.”

“Way to make your point,” she sighs as he again halts, shining the light on a row of books. She watches as his eyes narrow and he crouches down, examining another shelf and her lip catches between her teeth. “I can help if you tell me what you’re looking…”

“Got it!”

She watches as he pulls a thick maroon book from the shelf and blows the dust from the top, and she watches as it wafts through the air. “You… brought me here to show me an old beat-up copy of _The Kings and Queens of England_?”

“Among others,” he says, stooping down and pulling another book from the shelf.

“ _Vlad the Impaler: A Bloodthirsty Prince_ ,” she says with a sigh, taking the second book from him and letting her eyes slowly drift up to his. “Should I… be insulted that my boyfriend is comparing me to a blood-sucking vampire?

“No, you shouldn’t be.”

“Then… what should I be?”

“Open minded.”

“I don’t see…”

Robin laughs as he takes her hand, tugging her back around the corner. “There’s more…”

“A biography of Ivan the Terrible or maybe…” Robin shoots her a look and she sighs, her voice trailing off as they round another corner, he quickly snags a paperback from the shelf and hands it to her, “Or maybe _The Golden Compass_ ,” she murmurs, looking down at the cover’s almost-smiling polar bear. “I’m… even more confused now.”

Robin only smiles in return, once more reaching for her hand as he tugs her out of the aisle. In the dark, she can’t see where he’s leading her—but she was curious. Then finally, his steps slows and he tugs her down onto the braided carpet, and when he shines the light down onto his lap, she can see that he picked up a few books along the way. A little grin tugs up onto her lips as she looks around, seeing that they’re nuzzled into a little corner between shelves with their backs against a brick wall.

“So where to start?” He asks, looking over at her as his arm stretches around her shoulders—and instinctively, she cuddles in, pressing her hand to his chest as her head rests on his shoulder. “The Tudors? Catherine of Aquitaine? Mrs. Coulter or maybe Countess Elizabeth Bathory?”

Her eyebrow arches, “No Vlad the Impaler?”

He laughs a little, “One of my favorites.”

“Crazed bloodsucking ruler who liked to impale people on spears and watch them die is a favorite?”

“Well, not if you put it like that,” he scoffs, offering her quick wink as he plucks the book from his lap and fans the pages. “Sure, he was known for his cruelty, but a lot of it’s mostly lore—especially the bits about him being a vampire.” He looks over at her, offering a soft grin as he reaches over and tucks her head behind her ears. “But…” his voice slows as he settles on a page, “This poem, _Tiganiada,_ portrays him as a hero of his people, slaying those who posed a threat to his people and…”

Her eyes fall to the poem. “But I was the threat.”

“Not to everyone…”

Robin nods and flips to another page, “In this poem, _The Third Letter,_ the poet talks about how his people only saw the good he did after he was gone, and they missed him and wished he’d come back to them to protect them even though they spent most of his reign wishing someone else would take over.” He looks down at her and grins, and she feels a soft fluttering in her chest as a slight smile draws onto her lips. “But the ones I keep going back to are the Tudors—not as much lore, but just as compelling a story…”

“If you compare me to the crazed womanizer, Henry the VIII, I swear…”

“How about a different Tudor, then?” He chuckles as he opens the book and scans the table of contents—and she watches as his finger falls between Mary and Elizabeth. “People either loved or hated them…”

“Didn’t they call her Bloody Mary?”

“Yes,” Robin says as her eyes cast up to meet his. “But she had principles and she stuck to them, even when people disagreed and didn’t understand, and the odds were stacked against her.”

For a moment, her eyes fall to the page with the name Mary Tudor written in black calligraphy and a sketch of the Queen; and she can’t help remember the earliest years of her reign, before the darkness had completely overtaken her and her obsessions began. She remembers how advisors quit, not wanting to answer to a queen they found inferior, and how she’d lashed out and fired those who remained when she realized the debt her late husband had accrued.

“Then,” he begins as he flips a few pages. “There was Elizabeth—a beacon of stability.”

“That,” she begins. “Is not me.”

“No?” He asks, his voice ready to refute her. “You don’t think so?” She shakes her head as her eyes fall to the page. “Because after the first few years, I remember prosperous one followed. Like I said earlier, there weren’t famines or drought, the taxes weren’t very high and there was work in the pastures and in markets and the mills…”

“But after those first few years,” she says, her eyes casting up. “That’s when I really began to lose control. I was fixated on Snow White and I… I lost sight of why I’d wanted power in the first place…”

“Why did you want power?” He asks, closing the book. “Because that wasn’t always the case—you once wanted happiness over power.”

When she’d first started seeing Archie in those early years of the curse it was, in part, because the memories and the nightmares were becoming too much to bear on her own; of course, she couldn’t be completely honest with him, she told him enough that he could help her. She told him about the haze she seemed to live in, the way she’d permeated on certain things until they became obsessions—and she’d been taken aback when he’d nodded and told her it was because she wasn’t sleeping. In those years of her reign, she rarely slept—she’d go day after day, growing increasingly manic and crazed, until she finally lashed out and then crashed; and when she awoke, she couldn’t allow herself to feel refreshed or invigorated, the guilt always crept in and she knew that it was just the beginning of the cycle she was caught in.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs—because she truly does know how it happened. She only knows that fighting against it simply became too exhausting to continue.

Robin presses a kiss to her temple as he opens a book on Eleanor of Aquitaine and begins to tell her the story—he draws a parallel between their tenacity and resilience; and though Regina rolls her eyes at the mention of Eleanor’s Court of Love where she listened to others’ problems in love and offered them her advice, Robin points out how they looked to her to fix them; and as when she insists that’s nothing like her rule, he interjects and insists it is. He tells her about how her subjects never feared outside threats, knowing that she’d take care of the problem—she wouldn’t let her kingdom fall—and when she tries to tell him that it’s hardly the same, he agrees—Eleanor of Aquitaine was known and respected for frivolous advice; she protected their homes and their livelihoods, and even she finds it difficult to disagree.

“What about this one?” she asks, dragging her finger down the spine of a coral colored book that tells the story of Countess Elizabeth Bathory. “What’s her story?”

“Ahh, she’s quite an interesting one,” he muses as a chuckle rises into his voice, “A formidable woman and a serial killer—one of the most prolific. I think she still holds a some sort of record.”

“For this one I see the connection.”

“Well, there’s more to it than that,” Robin tells her as he opens the book, “She was notorious for her brutality…”

“Again, I see the connection.”

“She didn’t act alone though,” he says, as he flipped to the epilogue—something that was filled with speculation and assumptions. “She may even have been framed, maybe she took the wrong advice or thought she was serving a higher power…”

She looks away, focusing on the way his fingers hold open the book. “Well, that’s where our stories differ, I suppose.”

“Maybe,” Robin says, reaching out and tipping up her chin. “But you _didn’t_ act alone—not really. I know you hate to think of it this way and you place the whole burden on your own shoulders, but there were others who created the Evil Queen and there were others that led you to casting the curse and there were others who influenced your decisions. It wasn’t all you. You’re not innocent—not by a long shot—but you’re also not the only one who’s guilty.”

 “You don’t know the whole…”

“I’ve read your story, too, Regina. I do know.”

She sighs a little and looks up at him. “Why did you bring me here?”

“To prove a point—to prove to you that your time as Queen wasn’t as terrible as you think it was and it wasn’t that uncommon. All rulers have their baggage—tough choices they had to make, outside influences that couldn’t be avoided, terrible things they did to protect or balance power—but mixed in with all of those things are good things. They might not be obvious or the story that gets told—but they’re there. You just have to look for them.” A smile tugs onto his lips. “Henry’s a smart boy. He’s a reader and he knows there’s more to most stories than there appears to be on a first glance—why else would he read the same books and comics over and over again?”

Regina can’t help but smile at the mention of Henry and Robin’s words conjure an image she often finds on lazy Sunday mornings, an image of Henry curled up in the bay window working his way through an ever-growing stack of comic books. “For the sake of argument,” she begins, turning her eyes up to meet his. “Say I tell him who I am—who all of us are—and he believes and he forgives me, and he doesn’t see me as the Evil Queen. If I can’t break the curse then… he’s going to watch people he knows and loves suffer, he’s going to see what I’ve done to them and… what if…” Her voice falters as she takes in a breath, looking back at the books in his lap. “I have to break it; otherwise, nothing else matters.”

For a moment, he doesn’t reply—and she assumes it’s because he doesn’t know what to say; after all, there isn’t anything to say. “You know, there is another option—an option that would let you keep all of your secrets, an option that would let you forget all about the curse…”

“I know,” she says in a meek voice.

“Have you considered it? Have you considered leaving Storybrooke?” Momentarily, she hesitates, not wanting to admit that she’s thought of it more and more, every time she meets a dead end. “Because I know I have.”

“You have?”

He nods. “I’ve thought a lot about what it would be like to… pack up and move to Boston or New York or… anywhere. We could start a new life together, just the four of us and… and none this would matter.”

A shaky breath escapes her as she lifts her head to look at him. “You’d… just… leave your whole life?”

“Until recently, I didn’t have a life.”

A smile tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve thought about it, too.”

“Just know that it’s an option, okay?”

She nods and rests her head back against his chest and when his arm tightens around her, the flashlight shifts, illuminating the bottom shelf next to where they’re sitting and it shines upon a familiar story. Picking up her head, she looks at it—and suddenly her chest begins to swell with hope. Leaning over she pulls the book from the shelf and blows the dust off the top— _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_ is printed in gold leafing on the front and below the title is a picture of Prince Charming leaning in to kiss his true love.

“I… I think I know how to break the curse,” she murmurs as her fingers trace over image on the front of the book as her heart beat quickens. “Robin, I think I know how to break the curse!” She turns herself toward him, looking up at him as excited tears well in her eyes and she watches as a smile draws onto his lips as his eyes fall to the book in her lap. She laughs a little and wonders if it could really be this simple—and she reaches for him, her hands sliding over his stubbly cheeks, and though she can tell he’s not quite sure what’s spurred this epiphany, he’s enjoying it. She tugs him toward her, her lips seeking his as his hands find her hips, pulling her onto his lap as she kisses him—giggling intermittently against his lips.  

They easily lose track of the afternoon—trading kisses and thumbing through the dusty copy of _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_ as Robin teases about the library’s obvious lack of proper organization that a book like Snow White could be found in the same section as a book on Countess Bathory. For the first time in months her shoulders feel relaxed and she feels like the cloud that’s been looming above her is beginning to lift.

“I regret to inform you,” Robin says as his fingers stroke through her hair. “It’s time to go.”

“It can’t be…”

“It’s nearly two-thirty, and I have to tutor today and…”

A smile curls onto her lips as she stretches out her arms and closes the book in lap. “That’s perfect. I… need to have a little chat with Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

She laughs a little as his eyebrow arches. “A chat, hmm?”

“Yes,” she nods, pulling herself off him and holding the book to her chest. “As much as I hate to admit it, I need Mary Margaret to break the curse, and…” she grins as she feels a little chill of excitement run up her spine, “I know exactly what I need her to do.”

“Suppose she’s not interested,” he says as he gets to his feet and offers her his hand. “What then?”

“Trust me,” Regina says in a confident voice as her fingers curl around his hand. “She’ll be interested.”

Robin nods and pulls her up, shining the flashlight out in front of them as they make their way toward the front of the library—and she can’t help but laugh as his steps slow and he plucks a copy of _The Basil and Josephine Stories_ from a shelf and tucks the book beneath his arm, then continues toward the door without saying a word.

 “Wait,” she says, pressing her hand to his arm as he pulls open the door and a little ray of light streams in. “You never told me why you picked up _The Golden Compass_.”

A smirk forms on Robin’s lips as he opens the door and he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “You’ll just have to read it to find out.”

_____

They arrive at the elementary school just as the bell rings, and they part ways as Robin makes his way to the school’s little library. She watches for a few minutes in the hallway as students run toward the open doors wearing thick coats and well-stuffed backpacks that weigh them down and make them toddle—and a smile pulls onto her lips as Robin sets up the tables with pencils and erasers, crayons and pieces of scrap paper. One of the teachers joins him, tugging a cart of extra supplies—and Regina can’t help but laugh when Robin’s smile grows brighter and he stoops to assess the contents of the cart.

Taking a long and deep breath, she musters a smile and makes her way to Mary Margaret’s classroom and she hesitates for a brief moment, collecting her thoughts as she tries to find a starting point.

“Ms. Blanchard,” she asks, rasping her knuckles against the frame of the door. “Do you have few minutes?”

“Mayor Mills,” Mary Margaret says, her voice piquing with surprise. “Of course, I do,” she says, dropping a pink pen onto a stack of papers as she rises. “Please, come in.” A little awkwardly, Regina steps into the classroom—feeling out of place in a room full of low tables and miniature chairs. “What brings you by?”

Regina takes a breath. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about,” she begins as Mary Margaret’s brow creases in curiosity. “A favor, actually.”

“Oh… okay…”

“Henry is always telling me how… warm you are, and how thoughtful…”

“What a sweet boy…”

“Yes, he is,” Regina nods. “And, you’ve been so kind and wonderful to him. I so appreciate all you’ve done for him, all the encouragement you’ve given him… the support…” Her voice trails off—and her sincerity surprises even her. “So, with that in mind, you seem like a perfect candidate for a new imitative that my office has been planning.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Regina says, smiling at Mary Margaret’s obvious interest as her shoulders straighten and her eyes widen—and she can tell, even without any details, she’s flattered. “You see, at Storybrooke Hospital, we have several patients who… have… been there for quite some time with only the hospital’s staff to care for them. People who… don’t have families or people whose families can’t… be there often because of work and children, and other obligations.”

“Oh, how sad…”

“It is sad,” Regina agrees as her voice drops a few octaves. “So, we wanted to try out an outreach program… to help make them a little less lonely.” Mary Margaret nods, her eyes full of empathy—and Regina struggles not to smile. “We were hoping to find some volunteers from the community who could go to visit them—talk to them, bring them flowers, spend a couple of hours with them each week.”

“That’s such a sweet idea. I love that.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Does this mean I can count on you to help?”

“Of course!”

“Good,” Regina says, finally letting her smile tug up at the corners of her mouth. “Once we’ve worked out all the details, I’ll be in touch, then. You can expect a call from my secretary next week.”

“I look forward to it.”

“I’m so glad,” Regina says, feeling a little wave of relief wash over her. “I won’t take up any more of your time, Ms. Blanchard, but… thank you. Really. You have no idea how much your cooperation means to me.” Regina smiles once more and again, a little thrill runs down her spine—finally, she has a plan and she’d just set it into motion.

Her heels click as she makes her way down the hallways back toward the school’s library—and when she reaches is, her heart flutters as she watches Robin slide into a chair beside Henry. There’s another boy sitting with them at the table—and Robin opens a box of brightly colored blocks as Henry hands him a dry erase marker. Both boys watch him intently as he works his way through a problem that she can see deals with fractions—something Henry perpetually struggles with—and she watches he writes a step down and then moves the blocks around on the table. And she can’t help it when her throat tightens when Henry sighs in frustration, and Robin’s hand moves to his back, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades as he encourages him to try the problem again.

Her cell phone buzzes, drawing her out of the moment and when she pulls it out of her pocket, she sees that she has a new voicemail. Her brow furrows as she looks down at it—she hadn’t even felt it vibrating as the call was waiting to be received—and she flips open the phone to listen, not bothering to check the number. Taking a few steps away from the window, she wanders down the hallway and listens as Emma Swan explains that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Henry since the voicemails they traded, and she’s had a change of heart—she wants to meet her son—and, Regina feels her heart beat slow as a knot forms in her stomach as Emma urges her to call her back so they can arrange a day and time that will work for all of them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma Swan comes to town.

“You’re late!” Roland declares as soon as she steps in through the front door of Robin’s cabin. Her brow creases as she looks to the living room where Roland and Henry are–and she can’t help but smile at them.

Both boys are lying on their stomachs and what looks to be a million legos sit between them. There’s a box with a picture of a pirate ship to Henry’s left and she can tell he’s been concentrating–and she can tell that Roland’s struggling to stay patient.

“We made a quick stop after school,” Robin tells her as he steps out from the kitchen and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “And I… couldn’t resist their cute little smiles, and there were only two left.”

“Pushover.”

“You’d have done the same thing.”

“I know,” she says as a grin curls onto her lips and she leans into him as she turns back to the boys. “And I’m sorry that I’m late. My quick stop at the post office ended up being… not so quick.”

Henry nods understandingly and after a quick glance in Henry’s direction Roland nods too as a little grin pulls onto his lips–and she takes that as an indication that her tardiness has been forgiven.

Robin slips behind her, pulling her coat from her shoulders as she sets her bag on an armchair–and then, his arm slides around her waist, guiding her toward the kitchen. As they go she can smell the spaghetti sauce and inhales deeply–and a smile pulls onto her lips as she recognize her recipe.

“So,” Robin murmurs as he pulls a baguette from a paper bag. “You were at the post office this afternoon…”

Her eyebrow arches. “That… is a place I have to go from time to time.”

“I know,” he nods–as he takes a long breath. “I’m just wondering if… this has anything to do with a certain letter that fell out of your bag this morning… one that was addressed for a residence in New York City?” Stiffening, she turns to face him. “I wasn’t snooping,” he’s quick to add. “When you were in the shower, I was getting dressed and I accidentally knocked over your bag and…” He stops, his demeanor suddenly changing. “Never mind. It’s none of my business I shouldn’t have…”

“Yes,” she cuts in. “That’s why I was at the post office.” She watches the way Robin hesitates–his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a breath and she can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, or how deeply his disapproval runs. “I know I shouldn’t have sent it… or the others…but sometimes I just can’t stop myself before I…”

“Is it safe to assume that letter was addressed to Henry’s once-foster parents?” Meekly, she nods and his eyes narrow. “You’ve been… writing them letters?”

“Not… exactly,” she murmurs. “I just… every time I think of how they treated him, I feel this… anger bubble up inside of me and I want to do something about… I want them to feel what he felt and I…”

Robin blinks. “Are you telling me that you’re… writing them mean little notes?”

“They’re anonymous…”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything and her eyes sink closed. Every time she’s written the notes to the Tremaines, it’s been on impulse. She starts thinking about the way the treated him, the way they dismissed him, and the cruel neglect he faced in their ‘care’; and she thinks about that first moment she looked down to see him sitting at her feet–so helpless and alone, and still thinking that having no one was better than having them. And she knows the letter can’t be traced; she knows that Storybrooke is a safe haven from the outside world, surrounded by a magical barrier that seals them and keeps them apart.

“You, the great and terrible Evil Queen, are sending mean notes in the mail.” Her eyes open as she hears a hint of a laugh in his voice, and when her eyes open a smirk is stretched across his lips. “Oh, love. We really need to work on this evil thing. I’m not quite sure you understand it.”

“Don’t tease me…”

“I’m not. I just…” He sighs. “I just know that if I were to ever have any sort of interaction with those people, I… wouldn’t be able to hold back. Mean words would be the last of their worries.”

“It’s… a little more than ‘mean words.’” She takes a breath as her eyes meet his. “I’ve been sending… threats.”

“Threats,” he repeats, his eyes narrowing a little.

“They’re mostly empty. I just… want them to feel a little bit of what Henry felt when he was…”

“You don’t have to defend it.” She bristles a bit–still a bit unsure and still doubting her choice, which seems like such a backslide of the progress she’s worked so hard to make. “After the way those people treated Henry, they deserve to feel some discomfort.”

With that, he turns back to the counter and reaches for a knife, slicing open the baguette. “I sort of thought you’d… feel differently,” she murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against the edge of the counter. “I thought you’d… want to take the higher road.”

Robin nods. “Well, sometimes… the high road isn’t the best option.”

“You encouraging my bad behavior isn’t a good thing, you know.”

“But that’s just it–it’s not bad behavior.” He looks back at her, “They’re not innocent. They did something terrible and they deserve to pay a price; and you may very well be the only person who’ll ever hold them accountable.” He shrugs and continues to slice up the bread. “And as I said before, it’s relatively harmless.”

“Maybe…”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Robin says. “And your know, should you need any zingers to send their way, let me know because I’ve got a few choice words for them myself.”

In spite of herself, she smiles, laughing a little as she sighs. “Sure.”

“But I’m telling you,” Robin says, laying the slices of bread onto a baking sheet. “If you’re late for dinner again, I’m not sure Roland will be so forgiving.” A grin twists onto his lips. “Apparently, you are the only person on the planet who can make good parmesan cheese.”

Regina blinks. “But I don’t _make_ the cheese.”

“Tell Roland that.”

At that, she can’t help but laugh–and when he holds out a wedge of parmesan and a cheese grater, and a smile tugs onto her lips as she takes it. He bumps his hip against hers and offers her a little wink when she comes to stand beside him at the cutting board–and finally she feels herself relax–and she pushes away that discomforting notion that somehow her actions will blow up in her face–as they usually do–and worse, that they’ll blow up in Henry’s.

The conversation quickly turns away from letters and the trip to the post office–and when dinner is finally ready, she can’t help but laugh when Roland sprinkles three spoonfuls of the grated parmesan atop his spaghetti and meatballs. After dinner comes dessert and a movie while the boys continue to build their pirate ship; and by the time they fall asleep on the blanket in the living room, a fire is roaring and she and Robin are curled up together in an arm chair.

“We should put them to bed…”

“Not yet,” she murmurs as her head falls to his shoulder. “I don’t want to move. I’m too exhausted.”

“I could put you to bed first…”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know if that’s…” She blinks up at him. “I don’t know what that is, but I do know that I don’t want to move.”

Robin presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay, we’ll stay here for awhile longer then.”

For awhile, neither of them says anything. Her fingers stroke his chest as she stares into the fire–her thoughts pulled in what feels like a hundred different directions. They constantly shift from topic to topic, each thought triggering a different worry and Robin’s warm makes it slightly more tolerable. She burrows into him and closes  her eyes, wishing that these sorts of moments could last, wishing that all she had to focus on was the here and the now.

“How have you been sleeping?” He asks, breaking the long silence that fell between them. “Any better?”

“No.”

“You should call more.”

“That wouldn’t be fair,” she says, tilting her head up to look at him. “At least one of us should be allowed to sleep and wake up feeling rested.”

Robin sighs and once more press a kiss to her hair. “Or, maybe we should spend more nights together.”

Regina feels her eyebrows arch and she swallows hard–it’s so easy to look toward a future with him. It’s difficult not to, really–difficult not to think about what could lie ahead of them, what natural steps they could take together, what it would be like to not have the curse looming over them, to be normal. And then there are other times, when thinking about those things are just too painful.

“Did you talk to Emma today?” He asks, likely sensing her tension and accurately identifying the source. “Is everything set up?”

She nods, “Yes.”

“Does Henry know?”

“Not yet,” she says, taking a long breath, then slowly releasing it. “I just… couldn’t tell him yet. Part of me worries that things will fall through and he’ll be disappointed again, and then there’s another part of me that…” She feels his arms wrap tighter around her. “…isn’t ready to share him.”

“You’re not sharing him, not exactly.”

“What if she’s… wonderful.”

“Then she’s wonderful,” Robin says easily.

“She’s the savior.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

Regina nods. “She’s a bail bonds person. She literally hunts down bad guys and… and what eight-year old wouldn’t find that cool?”

“You’re his mother, Regina. Nothing will change that.” Again, he presses a soft kiss to her hair and this this time, nuzzles his cheek against her. “And you’re a pretty wonderfully kick ass person, too.” She rolls her eyes, but Robin squeezes her a little tighter. “You don’t have to agree with me because your son does.”

“I’m telling him tomorrow…”

“I’d wish you luck, but you won’t need it.”

She smiles at his confidence. “What if it makes things worse.”

“Then… you’ll be there for him. You’ll help him through it.”

“And what if… the curse breaks and…”

“Don’t,” he cuts in. “Don’t get caught up in what could happen. I know it’s hard–especially when you feel like everything’s on the line, but it’s not. You won’t lose him because of this. He loves you far too much.”

She nods. “And suppose the curse doesn’t break? Suppose… I’m throwing a wrench into all the progress Henry’s made and it turns out to all be for nothing.”

“Then,” he begins, his tone suddenly lighter. “You’ll just have to continue playing matchmaker with Snow White and Prince Charming.” She looks up at him and watches an amused smile stretch across his lips. “Who’d have ever thought the Evil Queen would be trying to bring those two back together?”

“Not me,” she says flatly. “And quite honestly, tearing them apart over and over was a lot less work.”

“Yeah?”

She nods as a sigh escapes her. “A poison apple here, a forged letter there…no big deal. But having a doe-eyed teacher fall in love with a comatose man… well, that’s a challenge.”

“But true love always brings people together, right? It’s the most powerful magic there is.”

A smile twists onto her lips. “That sounds familiar…”

“I read it somewhere,” he says, laughing a little. “And then… I got to experience it first-hand.”

“Oh?”

“Do you really think a true love’s kiss can break the curse?’

“Maybe…”

“Then perhaps we should practice?” He suggests, bringing his finger to her lips. “Humor me,” he murmurs as he leans in for a kiss.

_____

The following morning is a lazy one–and she spends it wearing a pair of Robin’s sweatpants and an old t-shirt. It’s pouring down rain and Robin had to go into work early to open the store. She made the boys waffles and let them use too much whipped cream to top them, and then the boys returned to building their pirate ship and watching Saturday morning cartoons.

Pulling out her laptop, she folds her legs beneath herself and sits on the couch, planning out an elaborate schedule for volunteering at the hospital to create the facade that this is a necessary outreach program, and not something specifically crafted for two virtual strangers.

In some ways, it feels so odd doing all of this for this reason–so odd to do something that goes against the grain of what she’s used to; and then, at the same time it feels like retribution. Since the curse, her strong feeling for Snow White had dulled; the once boiling hatred she felt has faded to annoyance. Years of therapy had helped and so had Henry–but in a lot of ways the curse had dulled her senses. Day in and day out, nothing mattered and in the long term, nothing ever changed. For most of the years they’d been in Storybrooke, they’d barely interacted; and though they were never more than a few miles apart, the distance between them helped her to put her feelings aside.

She takes a breath as she looks up from her laptop and she can’t help but smile when she sees Henry watching her. “Roland fell asleep,” he says with a soft sigh. “I think he’s in a food coma.”

“Well, he did have four waffles…”

“And like a whole tub of whipped cream.”

“That’s not true,” she says, her smile brightening as she sets her laptop aside. “I took a spoonful when he wasn’t looking.” Henry giggles as she pats the empty space beside her and when he joins her, she wraps her arms around him, hugging him against her until he squirms. “I love you,” she says, laughing softly as she lets him go.

“I know,” he replies, red-cheeked and smiling. “I love you, too.”

Taking a breath, she nods. “Henry, there’s something I need to tell you about.”

Likely sensing her discomfort, Henry’s smile fades. “Okay…”

“I heard back from your birthmother…”

“I know,” he says in a small voice. “She doesn’t want to meet me.”

“That’s… not true, actually,” Regina says, mustering a little smile. “She called back. She changed her mind.”

Henry blinks, and for a moment, she can’t quite tell what he’s thinking or feeling, if this is good news or if it’s a disappointment. “Why?” He asks, his voice flat. “What made her change her mind?”

“She… said she couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she tell him as a knot begins to form in her stomach. “I know what that’s like…”

Henry takes a breath and then turns to look at her, his hazel eyes narrowing. “So, she… wasn’t thinking about me before? Not ever?”

“I don’t know,” Regina murmurs as she pushes her fingers into his hair and brushing it away from his forehead. “I think… we caught her off guard, at first. When she put you up for adoption, she asked for a closed adoption. It was probably too difficult to watch you grow up with someone else, but it was also difficult to spend a lifetime wondering about something she’d never have answers about.” Swallowing, her eyes sink closed momentarily–and she can’t help but remember her own struggle to let go of him, how she’d been left with only hope that wherever he ended up was better than what he’d never had with her. “I think she’d just… accepted that she’d never be a part of your life, and then, one day out of the blue, I called her and…” Her voice trails off as her arms tighten around her. “I think she just… needed some time to get used to the idea of seeing you again, after all these years.”

“What did she say?” He asks, tilting his head back to look at her. “When she called…”

“Just that she changed her mind, and that if we were still interested, she’d like to see you.” She pauses for a moment. “She’s going to come here, later this week.”

“This week…”

“Unless you changed your mind?”

Henry hesitates and his eyes fall away from hers. “Is it bad that I don’t know what I want?”

“No,” she murmurs gently. “It’s not.”

“I just… kinda got used to the idea of not meeting her.”

“Well,” Regina begins, taking a short breath. “It’s up to you, but… you were pretty upset when you thought that she didn’t want to meet you, so I think, maybe deep down, you do know what you want and… you’re just worried about getting hurt again.”

She watches as Henry nervously fumbles with his fingers. “What if… what if she regrets it?” Henry asks in a small voice, not looking up at her.

“Regrets what? Giving you up for adoption?”

He shakes his head. “Meeting me.”

“Oh, Henry, I don’t think she’ll…”

“But what if she does,” he cuts in. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

For a moment, she’s not sure what to say. She can’t pretend to know the inner workings of the mind of a person she’s never once laid eyes on; and she can’t possibly predict what’ll happen when Emma Swan comes to Storybrooke. And then, she remembers something that Robin said to her the night before–and a soft smile draws onto her lips.

“Then you and I will get through that together,” she tells him. “No matter what happens, you’ll always have me.”

Henry smiles and nods, cuddling closer to her as he rests his head against her shoulder. “That’s true.”

“It’s just one afternoon,” she reminds him. “If it goes well, maybe it can be another afternoon sometime, and if it doesn't… then… as disappointing as that might be, nothing really changes.”

“Yeah…”

“And remember, you can always change your mind, too.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head. “And either way, I think milkshakes and Granny’s is a good plan for Friday.”

“And cheeseburgers?”

“Sure.”

He giggles a little as he turns himself, curling into her as little grin tugs onto his lips as she starts to slowly rock him. “I love you.”

“I know,” she murmurs back. “I love you, too.”

_____

For the most part, in the days before Emma Swan arrives, Henry remains quiet on the subject. There’s a part of Regina that’s glad not to linger on the subject and then there’s a part of her that wishes he’d open a little.

Archie reminds her that this is hard on him–for years, he’s built up the persona of his birth mother, and be it good or bad, meeting her face-to-face will tear down everything characteristic he assigned to her and every story he created about her; and then, there’s the extra layer of his recent adoption. That last detail had chest tightening and a knot forming in her stomach–and Archie had gone on to explain that Henry had likely dreamed about this moment, that he’d likely envisioned as a perfect parent, a parent who could swoop in and save him from the cruelty of his foster parents, and now, that same vision positioned this stranger in a position to take him away from a better situation where he was felt safe and loved. She’d started to argue, quick to remind him that her son’s custody was not up for debate–and Archie had softened, explaining it was all in Henry’s head, and likely something he wasn’t even aware of.

Despite his reassurance, the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen; in fact, it only seemed to tighten with each day that led up to the meeting, and she found herself wondering how Henry would feel if Emma Swan really were the perfect parents he’d envisioned and what that would mean when he found out who she really was–and throughout Robin had been wonderful, always there to reassure her with a squeeze of her and or a little smile, always there to remind her how much Henry loves her and the past was behind her. For the most part, he’d handled dinner that week–wherever it was that they ate–and he’d taken it upon himself to keep her company and not let her fall too deeply into her worst fears.

In the days before Emma’s arrival in Storybrooke, they’d talked a handful of times on the phone, hammering out the logistical details of when and where, and Regina was relieved that it was Emma’s suggestion to meet in Storybrooke, or as she’d put it, “on Henry’s turf.” And no matter how much Archie or Robin tried to reassure her, each and every conversation she had with Emma Swan left her unsettled in a new way.

“So,” Robin begins as he rolls onto his side and a small, tired grin pulls onto his lips. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“No.”

Although he sighs, he also smiles as his hand slides over her hip. “It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

“You’re such an optimist…” She laughs a little, “It’d be annoying if… I didn’t need it so much.”

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her lips. “Well, I’ve got an unlimited supply.” Rolling her eyes, she sighs and rolls onto her back, and for a moment, she just stares up at the ceiling. “So tell me,” he says, sliding down beside her. “What exactly happens when the Savior comes to town?”

“I don’t know exactly…”

“What does she have to do to break the curse? Is… just being here enough?”

She shakes her head. “There’s more to it than that,” she murmurs, turning her head on her pillow. “It’s… much more complicated.” Taking a breath, she presses her eyes closed. “Her being here will change things, I just… don’t know how much or if it’ll be enough.”

“And then you’ll have to do the rest…”

“Maybe,” she says, opening her eyes. “If I can ever figure it out…”

“You will.”

“I wish I shared your optimism.”

Kneading his fingers at her hip, he rests his forehead against hers. “I have faith in you, Regina.”

“Blind faith…”

“No,” he cuts in. “It’s not blind.” He nuzzles her and she can’t help but smile in spite of herself; and when his hand slides from her hip to the small of her back, she can’t help but lean into him a little. “You’ve done impossible things before, you can do it again.”

“If you’re talking about casting the curse…”

“It’s not just the curse. It’s… everything. It’s everything you’ve survived, everything you’ve overcome, all the times you’ve had to reinvent yourself, the way you’ve persevered.” He squeezes her into a hug and then rolls away from her–and she lifts her head, watching curiously as he leans over the edge of the bed and rummages around for something–and when he sits back up, he’s holding the storybook.

“You stole that again?”

A grin stretches over his lips. “It’s what I do. You know that.”

Pulling herself up, she leans against his arm. “And what point are you trying to prove?”

“I’m glad that you asked,” she tells her, his grin widening as he opens the book to a page that tells the story of Prince Charming awakening Snow White with a True Love’s Kiss. “So, once you got it into your head you were going to use these two to try to break the curse…”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No,” he says, chuckling as he turns the page. “That’s why I wanted to know more about them and their story and…when I went to read about it, I found… this.” She watches as he flips a few pages  and her brow creases as he lifts a page from the book. “Take a look.”

Slowly, she takes the page. “I… don’t understand,” she murmurs as she looks down at it–a page that depicts something that’s so close, but not quite a memory of hers. “I… didn’t go in. This didn’t happen,” she tells him, looking over at him. “I ran away that night.”

“That’s true…”

“Then why is it in the book?”

“Well, it’s not… it just… sort of appeared,” he says, a bit hesitantly, likely not fully understanding himself. “The actual page–what actually happened–is still in the book.”

“Then… how is…”

“Well,” he cuts in, his voice faltering. “I think it’s a sign.”

“A sign,” she repeats skeptically. “A sign of what?”

“Hope.” Her eyebrow arches. “It’s a sign of hope that’s meant to tell us that there’s not one end to any story.” She watches as he looks down at the page, watching the faint smile that tugs onto his lips as he looks down at the two of them embracing in a former life, in a story that was never told. “So, I think what this means is that… there can be any number of ending to any story. If bringing the Savior to Storybrooke doesn’t work or reuniting Snow White and Prince Charming fails, there will be another way to break the curse.”

Resting her head on his shoulder she looks down at the page–and for a brief moment, she feels like she almost remembers the kiss that didn’t happen in that tavern. “You seem pretty sure of that.”

“Well, I am,” he murmurs as his arm slides around her shoulders and he presses a kiss to her temple. “We’re here now and we’re together, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are,” she replies as she lifts her head from his shoulder and melts into a kiss.

_____

She stands in her office window and watches as a yellow VW bug rounds the corner toward Main Street and her stomach drops–and she finds herself holding her breath, as if to brace herself.

She knows the Savior’s effects won’t be immediate, that they’ll take time and they’ll be subtle; and she assumes that she won’t be staying long–but she hopes it’s long enough to push breaking the curse forward, that something will happen to spark the rest.

For the rest of the day, she’s on edge and despite being at her desk for the entire day, she doesn’t touch a single thing. She spends most of the day staring off into space–worrying and wondering–and the only thing that pulls her from her trance is Robin bringing her lunch. While he’s there he provides a temporary distraction–and temporary relief. He doesn’t ask about Emma or the curse or even about Henry; instead he distracts her with stories about customers who’ve come into his store, making ridiculous questions and asking unfathomable questions. It make she smile and chuckle softly–and for a few brief moments, it lets her forget. It’s not until he has to go that she’s brought back into the present. He squeezes her hand and his lips brush against her cheek as he wishes her her good luck and reminds her that he’s only a phone call away.

She nods as he goes and when she turns back to the window, a little chill runs down her spine and outside, she watches as the wind picks up.

Finally, it’s time to pick up Henry–and when she watches him come through the front doors of the school, she can tell he’s just as nervous as she is.

“Hey you,” she calls to him as he nears. “How was your day?”

Henry shrugs and looks up at her. “Okay, I guess.”

“Anything exciting happen?” She inquires, doing her best to pretend that this is normal and like any other day. “You had art today, right?”

Henry nods and looks up at her and her heart clenches when his hand tightens around hers. “I… I think we should have a code.”

“A code?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I think we should have a signal.”

“What for?”

“In case she’s a psychopath.”

Regina blinks and looks down at him, her head tipping to the side. “I… don’t think she’s a psychopath.”

“We read this story today about this crazy lady that lured kids to her house and ate them.” HIs hand tightens around hers and he takes a breath. “What if…”

“She’s not going to eat us,” Regina cuts in as she stoops down to his level. “And trust me, I can turn into this woman’s worst nightmare in the blink of an eye.”

Henry nods and takes a short breath. “I still think we should have a code.”

Leaning in, she presses a kiss to his forehead, then stands. “Okay, what should it be?”

“Well, it shouldn’t be too obvious…”

“Too obvious?”

“Yeah, like… I shouldn’t yell ABORT MISSION really loudly… or… something like that.”

A grin twists onto her lips. “I can see how that might be… jarring.”

“In New York, everything had a code name,” he says as they start toward Main Street. “It made everything more exciting… like it was all part of an adventure or a mystery or… “ He hesitates for a moment and his shoulders shrug. “Anything that was something other than what it was.”

Her shoulder tense and her jaw tightens at the thought of Henry creating ways to escape from his reality–trying to make his life some sort of game, something to distract himself and make it hurt just a little bit less–and her chest clenches at the thought that this is what he’s doing now. “Tell me about that,” she murmurs. “What are some of the other code names you used?” Henry glances up at her and she smiles a little. “You know, so we don’t repeat…”

“Yeah, that could be bad, too,” he decided, chewing at his bottom lip. “Well, when I ran away from my foster family that was Operation Cheetah because…”

“Because you were running.”

“Yep.”

“And,” he giggles softly, “Then when I was… just… in New York… if it was getting dark, it was Operation Panther.” He looks up at her and again, her chest tightens. “Because Panthers can blend in with the dark and… well… no one messes with a panther.”

“That’s… true,” she says. “We’re all of the missions named after big cats?”

“No,” he tells her. “There have been lots of ones that weren’t named after other things, but they are usually predators or something animals do to get out of danger quick.”

“I see…”

His hand tightens around hers as they near Granny’s. “Maybe this one could be Operation Leap Frog.”

Despite the knot in her stomach and the pressure in her chest, she grins. “Leap Frog? When I think of predatory animals, I don’t think of frogs.”

“Frogs can jump up to seven feet,” he says in a very matter-of-fact tone. “They can get out of almost any situation and they swim, like, 30 miles per hour.”

“How do you know that?”

“I read it somewhere…”

“Of course,” she says, chuckling softly as her footsteps slow. “Alright, so… if we need to get out of here quickly, then… Operation Leap Frog is a go?”

“Yup.”

“And how do we determine that?”

Henry blinks. “I’ll say something about liking frogs.”

Regina nods. “Got it.”

“And you can say it, too.”

She watches as he takes a long, deep breath and slowly exhales it–and once more, his fingers tighten around her hand. Giving his hand a gentle tug, they step inside of the diner and her eyes scan the room, searching until they spot a woman with loosely curled blonde hair and Henry’s hazel eyes. “I… think that’s her.”

“The one in the red jacket?”

“Yeah,” Regina murmurs as something indescribable stirs within her. “And… she doesn’t look like a psychopath.”\

Henry catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks up at her. “They never do.”

“You ready?”

“I… don’t know,” Henry murmurs. “You’d think eight years would have been enough time to decide.”

“Well, it’s now or never,” Regina murmurs, looking back at Emma Swan and watching the way she stares out the window, looking just as uncomfortable as she feels. “Come on…”

They’ve barely taken five steps before Emma turns to look at them, a tight smile stretching over her lips as she gives them an awkward little wave–and Regina watches as her eyes slide to Henry. She and Emma exchange pleasantries and formal introductions as she and Henry join Emma at the booth; and Henry slides as close to her as possible, gripping her hand beneath the table.

“Thank you for coming all the way out here,” Regina says when an awkward silence falls between them all. “I… know it was quite a hike from Boston.”

“I’m used to traveling,” Emma tells her, swallowing hard as her eyes shift from Regina to Henry. “You, uh… you must be Henry.”

“I am,” he says in a small voice, averting her eyes.

“That’s a… cool backpack,” Emma murmurs, likely searching for something to say. “You, uh, like Captain America, huh?”

“A little.”

“Well,” Regina cuts in, trying her best to keep her voice even. “That’s an understatement, if I’ve ever heard one.” She glances to Emma and smiles a little. “He’s a fan of all things superheroes.”

“Yeah?” Emma asks, perking up a little. “That’s funny because I just happen to have a superpower.”

“You do?”

“Well… kind of,” Emma says, chuckling nervously. “I can tell when people are lying.” She grins. “It comes in handy with my line of work.”

“I’m sure it does,” Regina says, shifting uncomfortably but trying her best to hide it.

“Do you… really hunt down bad guys?” Regina watches as Emma nods. “That’s cool.”

“Some days it is,” Emma says, leaning back in the booth.

“How did… you find out you had a superpower?” Henry asks, his voice piquing with interest as his shoulders relax. “Did you always have it?”

“Um… yeah, I guess I did.”

Regina’s legs cross as she bristles. It wouldn’t be unfathomable for someone like Emma Swan to have an actual power, given the person she really is and the place she came from; and the idea that the woman sitting across from her could sense lies and deceit makes her more than a little uncomfortable–but, she realizes as she takes a breath, Emma doesn’t seem to be put off by her.

“Call it a survival tactic,” Emma muses.

Henry’s eyes narrow a little, and Regina can’t help but be reminded of the conversation about Henry’s little ‘operations’ and how they’d served as a metaphorical safety blanket.  “Why did you need a survival tactic?”

“I, uh, grew up in the system… until I ran away from it, that is.”

Henry blinks. “The foster care system?” Emma nods. “Me, too,” Henry says, his voice a little louder and more confident, likely glad to have found some sort of common ground. “Well, until recently.”

Emma’s eyes slide to Regina and she can’t help but smile as Henry cuddles into her side a little–and for some reason she finds herself relaxing a bit. “You… recently adopted him?”

“Over the summer…”

“Three days before my birthday,” Henry adds. “Well, not officially, but…” He grins as he looks up at her, “That’s when I got to come live here in Storybrooke with her.”

A grin that’s filled with mixed emotions stretches over Emma’s lips–Regina never shared the details of Henry’s adoption or his homelessness in their short conversations, and she can see that Emma’s affected by it. “You’re a lucky kid, Henry,” Emma says. “You know that, right?”

“I know.”

The conversation continues–and for the most part, Regina stays quiet, letting Henry have this moment with his birth mother, a moment he’s likely be thinking about for his entire life. And as the conversation, continues she finds herself relaxing. Ruby takes their order as Henry tells Emma about Operation Cheetah; and Emma tells him a similar story of her own–and Regina can help but notice that there aren’t just parallels between them, it’s nearly the exact same story.

She watches their mannerisms, and she can’t help but see Henry reflected in Emma. They have the same eyes and their brows furrow in a similar way and when a grin creeps onto their lips, it’s the same. And though, there’s a part of her that feels like she should be threatened by this, she’s not. And when the conversation shifts to lighter topics–Henry’s love of reading and how they’re working their way not-so-slowly through the Harry Potter books, Emma’s smile warms as her eyes shift to Regina, and in them, she sees something that looks like gratitude.

Ruby brings their orders and Henry reaches across the table for the ketchup, pushing his fries to the side as he squirts the ketchup onto his plate–and that’s when he asks.

“Do you regret giving me up?” Regina’s eyes widen a little as she looks up from her salad and to Emma, watching the way she momentarily freezes. Henry blinks, his hands shaking as he holds the bottle of ketchup. “I’m just wondering… I’ve been wondering if… you regret any of it?”

“Um…”

“Henry, why don’t we…”

“No, it’s okay,” Emma cuts in. “That’s why I’m here, right?” Beneath the table, Henry reaches for Regina’s hand–and she gives it a little, reassuring squeeze, watching him as he watches Emma. “Can I be honest with you?” Emma asks, almost abruptly–and though the question is directed at Henry, her eyes momentarily shift to Regina and she waits for Regina to nod.

“Yeah,” Henry says in a small voice as he takes a short breath in preparation and his hand squeezes Regina’s. “I want you to be honest.”

Emma nods, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything–for a moment, she seems to be lost in her memories. “I don’t regret it. I don’t regret giving you up for adoption, but I don’t regret having you either.” She pauses for a moment and Regina’s hand slides over Henry’s back, rubbing soft circles against his woolen sweater. “It’s… kind of complicated.”

“I’d imagine so,” Regina says, the empathy in her voice surprising even her as she remembers her own complicated history with her son.

“Why did you give me up?”

Regina blinks down at him and her lips part, ready to suggest that maybe that’s not such an easy question to answer–but Emma’s voice beats hers.

“I was seventeen and… not in a good place,” she says slowly. “And I wanted you to have a better life than I did, better than one I could give you.” Her eyes shift from Henry to Regina and then back again and a little smile edges onto her lips. “And I know it took longer than any of us would have liked, but I think you were always meant to be someone else’s.”

Henry turns his head upward to look at her and she smiles down at him. “I think so too,” he decides, looking back at Emma as he dips one of his fries–and then, the subject changes to lighter topics.

_____

Emma stays for the rest of the day.

Henry suggests a tour–and as Mayor, Regina is happy to oblige. They take her to City Hall and to the park, and they wander through town, checking out some of the local attractions. The whole way Henry holds onto her hand, happily chattering as he plays the tour guide. They stop briefly in Robin’s shop–among others–and Henry tells her about his favorite spot in the store where he and Roland like to pretend they’re explorers. Regina introduces Robin, and he shakes Emma’s hand as Henry explains the store belongs to Robin and that he once taught him how to shoot an arrow. He smiles a bit sheepishly as he tells her that Robin also is helping to teach him math, something he’s always struggled with. Robin’s arms slide around Regina’s waist, squeezing her gently, as Emma’s eyebrows arch as she confess that she’d always struggled with math, too.

They leave the store, and Regina does her best to avoid the pawn shop as they wander down Main Street and back toward Granny’s–and that’s when Emma says she should probably go.

“There are rooms at Granny’s, if you wanted to stay the night” Regina murmurs. “The road out of Storybrooke is usually pretty dark at night.”

Emma grins and nods. “Thanks, but, uh… I should go.”

“Bad guys to hunt down?”

“Yeah,” Emma says as she looks down at Henry. “Actually,” murmurs as she reaches into her pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. “I’m not sure this one’s so much of a bad guy as he is an… idiot.” A smirk forms over her lips as Henry giggles. “Killian Jones, who appears to be an overgrown child who stole a yacht… and a lot of liquor.”

“Exciting.”

“It usually is,” Emma says as a chuckle rises into her voice and her eyes shift to Regina. “But this time, I’ll just take the easy money.”

“I’m glad you came,” Henry says as he leads back against Regina’s legs and her arm folds around him. “It was nice finally meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you, too, kid–and, I’m glad I came, too.” A warm smile stretches across her lips. “I spent a long time wondering about you and I’m glad that you ended up in a good spot… even if it was a bit shaky for awhile.”

“Me, too,” Henry says, awkwardly sticking out his hand to shake Emma’s. Both she and Regina laugh as Emma stoops down in front of him, and tentatively, he steps forward, giving her a loose hug. Regina watches as her arms tighten around him, squeezing him close and breathing him in as her eyes press closed. And for an all too brief moment, a look of yearning registers on Emma’s face. Then, all too quickly it fades away and she lets go of Henry as she rises to her feet.  “Bye Emma,” Henry says, waving as he once more leans back against Regina’s legs.

“Bye, kid,” she says, waving a little awkwardly as she fishes her keys out of her pocket. “Regina, thank you for… setting this up.”

“I was glad to,” she says, taken aback by the genuine tone that her voice takes as Emma takes a step back, reaching behind herself for the door handle of her bug–and Regina feels her chest tighten. “Emma, wait,” she calls out, shifting a bit awkwardly on her feet as Emma looks back at her, her brow furrowing in a way that looks so much like Henry. “Would you be interested in… updates? School pictures and… cards at holidays? That sort of thing?”

“I’d love that,” Emma says as a warm grin tugs on to her lips. “Thank you.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” she breathes out as Emma gets into her car. She rolls down the window and waves again–and just as the clock strikes eight o’clock, Emma Swan drives away.

Looking up toward the darkening sky, as if to look for some sign of magic or some indication that the curse is a little closer to being broken; but she sees nothing. Tugging Henry back against her legs, she combs her fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath. “So… what do you think?”

“Well, she wasn’t a psychopath,” Henry says, looking up at her. “She was nice.”

“She was nice,” Regina agrees. “Was she what you expected?”

“No,” Henry says, shaking his head. “It was a lot better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“So you’re glad we did this?”

“I am,” he tells her as she pushes him forward and takes his hand, beginning to lead him away from the curb. She looks down Main Street as just as the yellow bug disappears and Henry swings her hand back and forth as they stroll back toward Granny’s. “It was nice to… hear things from her.”

“And did she answer your all your questions?”

“She did,” Henry confirms. “She said what everyone else has always told me–well, except for my foster parents–but somehow it matter more hearing it from her.”

“Because you know it’s the truth.”

“Yeah,” Henry says as they round the corner, walking in the direction of City Hall. “I guess so.”

“Mayor Mills! Mayor Mills, wait!” She and Henry stop and turn in the direction the voice and Regina’s eyes widen as Mary-Margaret Blanchard runs toward them, waving her one hand to get their attention and holding her hat with the other. Regina grimaces a little at the sight and Henry giggles–and before she can ask, Mary-Margaret stops in front of them. “Hi, I’m so glad I ran into you.”

Regina blinks. “I’d imagine so, considering that you ran half of a block to do so.”

“I… just wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“For choosing me to volunteer at the hospital. I can’t explain it, but I just… feel so…” Mary-Margaret shakes her head. “I’m not sure what it is that I feel, but it’s… exhilarating.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Regina says, hesitating only a moment before reaching out and squeezing her hand as her chest flutters. “Really, you have no idea what a relief that is.”

She smiles and nods, and then looks back behind herself down Main Street. “Who was that woman you were talking to earlier?”

“Emma Swan,” Henry answers. “My birth mother. She came to meet me.”

“Oh,” Mary-Margaret murmurs. “I… I just thought she… just… looked a little familiar.” She shakes her head. “I just… can’t quite figure out why that is.”

Regina feels her heartbeat quicken as she shrugs. “I… don’t know.”

“Maybe she just has one of those faces,” Mary-Margaret says, sighing softly as she looks back over her shoulder in the direction that Emma’s car had just disappeared in–and for an all too brief moment, Regina feels a fluttering of something she can’t quite place and she finds herself holding onto Henry a little bit tighter.

“We have the same eyes,” Henry says, filling the silence. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe,” Mary-Margaret says as a smile pulls onto her lips. “That’s probably it.” She offers Henry a little wink and she doesn’t seem to notice that the little boy’s eyes–the eyes that are so like the familiar stranger’s–are just like hers. “Well, it’s getting late, I should be going,” she says, as her eyes shift to Regina and her smile warms. “And really, thank you so much for asking me to participate in this program. This week has been so wonderful. It’s nice having… someone to visit, someone to care about.”

“It is,” Regina agrees. “Not having someone is… the worst curse of all.”

Mary-Margaret nods in agreement and smiles again, this time looking to Henry. “And I’ll see you on Monday. We’re going to start multiplying fractions in math–so get ready for it.”

Henry groans and Regina smiles, and again feels something stir inside of her–something that she can’t quite place. Mary-Margaret waves goodbye and turns back in the opposite direction; and for a moment, Regina just watches her go–and it’s only once Mary-Margaret is out of sight that she realizes she’s grateful–grateful for her hazy feelings of recognition of the daughter she doesn’t know, her connection to a man she’s barely met but shares a fairytale love story, and for her unknowing willingness in moving forward with breaking the curse. But most of all, she’s grateful for her part in the jagged line that led Henry to her–and all the happiness and hope he’d brought with him.

“I don’t wanna learn how to multiply fractions,” Henry sighs, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Can’t I just add them up like I’ve been doing? I almost have the hang of it.”

“Oh,” Regina murmurs. “I… think it’s supposed to be faster.”

“I guess,” he grumbles as they round the corner toward her car parked in front of City Hall. “But when am I ever going to need to multiply fractions?”

“Well…” She begins, her voice trailing off as she struggles to think of an example. “There’s always… cooking.”

“Not really,” Henry says as he swings their hands back and forth. “Adding, maybe, but _multiplying_?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer–and she’s genuinely stumped by his question. She’s sure there’s an answer–there has to be–but it’s nearing nine o’clock and the handful of hours that she slept the night before are wearing on her. “Let me… get back to you on that in the morning,” she says as they reach her car. Henry giggles in response and lets go of her hand, skipping around to the passenger side of the car as the conversation shifts to Harry Potter and extra chapters. She finds herself nodding in agreement, promising an extra chapter and a before-bed snack–and she’s so caught up in Henry that she doesn’t notice the purple hue of the clouds that have overtaken the night sky.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina (and Henry, Roland and Robin) enjoy the calm before the inevitable storm.

She’s not entirely sure what she expected to happen when the Savior came to Storybrooke, but she had expected something–after all, that was the whole point of the Savior.

Yet Emma Swan had come and gone. While it’s naive to think that Emma simply being in Storybrooke would have been enough to break the curse, her arrival should have sparked something–even if she wasn’t sure what that something was. But, there’d been no bolts of lightening or crashing thunder, there were no gusts of wind or fleeing birds, and while those sorts of signs seemed to be a tad too hyperbolic, there was no indication that anything was different at all, and it was business as usual in Storybrooke.

The night that they’d met Emma was a Friday, and when she and Henry got home, he washed up and put on his pajamas–and then begged for the already-promised popcorn and extra chapters of Harry Potter. Her heart fluttered as she nodded, already knowing that she was going to give in and let him stay up late that he should. He got the book and an extra blanket while she made the popcorn, and they read together until he fell asleep at a time that was hours past his bedtime. She hadn’t had the heart to wake him up, so she’d slowly and awkwardly pulled the empty bowl away from him and adjusted the blanket up around him as she leaned over to turn off the light–and a few hours later, when she woke up, he was still lying against her. She could feel the beat of his heart and she stroked his hair, saying a silent prayer to whatever power might be listening that he’d sleep through what was left of the night without the nightmares that too often plagued him.

At some point, she’d dozed off and when her eyes opened again, the sun was shining into the living room and Henry was still beside her, thumbing through The Goblet of Fire–and she couldn’t help but smile when he told her that he was rereading one of his favorite parts, then promptly asked if they could make breakfast. Regina agreed easily and Henry began rattling off what he’d like to eat as she lagged behind him. They’d settled on bacon, fried eggs and toast, and Henry giggled as he pressed his fork into the egg, breaking the yoke and swirling his fork through it before pulling back his hand so that Regina could flip the egg as bacon sizzled beside them. When the toast popped up, Henry’s attention was redirected and Regina shook her head and sighed as Henry slathered too much jelly onto his toast.

Carrying the plates to the counter, she sets them in front of two of the stools and she reaches for a craft of apple juice. “So, um… what did you think?”

Henry climbs up into his stool and blinks. “About what?”

A small smile spreads over her lips as he cuts into one of the eggs–smiling as he examines the fluffy yoke. “About yesterday,” she begins in a tentative voice. “About meeting your… birth mother.”

“Oh,” he murmurs as he shoves the egg into his mouth, considering as he chews. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?”

He nods. “She was nice and she answered my questions…”

Regina watches as he reaches for a slice of bacon. “But…”

A shy little grin forms on his lips, and he looks up at her like he doesn’t want to disappoint her. “I don’t know it was just… I thought it’d be different,” he says, looking from her to the slice of bacon at his fingertips. “It was really nice getting to meet her and it was fun showing her around town and stuff, but… I just… I wasn’t really sad when she left.”

“No?

Shaking his head, he blinks up at her and his cheeks flush a little. “I… kinda kept thinking about other stuff.” His bottom lip catches between his teeth and he looks back to his plate. “I kept thinking about how it was Friday and we should be watching a movie with Roland and Robin and…” He sighs as his eyes shift back to her. “The Mummy was on last night and Roland hasn’t seen it.”

“The Mummy?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” he admit, as he bites off a piece of bacon. “Do you think we could try to find some place that has it and rent?”

“I don’t see why not,” she replies, reaching for her apple juice and taking a long sip, unable to stop herself from smiling over its rim as Henry’s focus shifts to tombs filled with treasure…

For the rest of Breakfast, Henry chatters on and on–from curiosity over treasure-filled tombs to the excitement of the anticipated Tri-Wizard Tournament to singing the praises of Spiderman–and Regina soaks it all in. She blinks a few times, feeling tears welling in her eyes and there’s a soft flutter in her chest as she listens and nods along–and she finds herself caught up in just how happy this little boy has made her. His hazel eyes light up and he gives her the cliffsnotes version of the last Avengers comic that he got in the mail–and she continues to nod along, providing all the expected reaction when his voice dips and piques, and for a moment, she’d overwhelmed by how much she loves him; and when he smiles and laughs as he bites into his toast, the jelly that lacquers it gets all over his lips, he looks up at her and it’s more than obvious that he feel the same way–and she finds herself thinking that if she’s ever done anything good in her lifetime, the proof of it is sitting right in front of her.

“Okay,” she murmurs as she takes his plate to the sink. “I think it’s time to get dressed.”

Henry’s face scrunches. “But I like these pants.”

“Those aren’t pants. Those are pajamas.”

“But they have Thor’s hammer all over them… which makes them cool and…”

“That may be so, but they are still pajamas, not real pants,” Regina cuts in. “Go put on something that isn’t made out of fleece or covered in superheroes or has an elastic waistband.”

“Fine,” Henry sighs as he slides from his chair. “I’ll just put on some boring jeans.”

“And a sweater.”

“Can that have superheroes on it?”

Regina’s eyes roll as Henry’s brow arches. “Yes,” she murmurs as she watches as Henry slides from his chair and a grin twists onto his lips–and then, he rushes forward. His grin changes and he can see the emotion in his eyes, and her chest flutters as his arms wrap around her waist. Her free hand fold around him, hugging her against his legs and her breath gets caught in her throat when his arms tighten around her. And then, he pulls away, looking up at her with a sheepish little grin spread across his lips–and before she can say anything, he takes off running toward the stairs and she has to swallow back her tears. She stands there for a moment, looking toward the stairs and listening as Henry’s bedroom door closes behind him–and as much as she hates to admit it, she’s relieved that everything feels so normal, that there were no noticeable changes and that Emma Swan’s brief appearance hadn’t changed anything.

By the time she’s dressed, Henry is waiting for her by the door–and she can’t help but smile when she notices that he’s dressed in Gryffindor colors and the wizard’s want that he got for Christmas is sticking out from the top of his backpack. She takes his hand, tugging him out the door, and they decide to walk to the park to meet Robin and Roland. Her shoulders relax as Henry swings their hands back and forth as they walk, and the whole way there, he chatters on and on about the Tri-Wizard Tournament–and the fact that he already know how it’ll all play out doesn’t in any way put a damper on his excitement.

As soon as they reach the park, Henry lets go of her hand and dashes toward Roland–who she can’t help but notice is wearing Hufflepuff colors and a cape, and when he sees Henry he holds up and wildly waves his wand. Robin smiles at her from the bench and waves, and she can’t stop her own smile from tugging onto her lips as she shoves her hands into her pockets and makes her way to the bench.

“I wanted to call,” Robin murmurs as she sits down beside him. “But I thought you and Henry could… use some time alone without my interruption.” He pauses for a moment and she can see him struggling with his question, realizing its depth. “So, uh, things… seemed to be going well when you came into the shop.”

“Yes,” she nods. “Things… did go well.”

He blinks. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” she says, chuckling awkwardly as her shoulders shrug. “It wasn’t what I expected.”

“No?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “But I… also don’t know what I expected.” She takes a breath. “She was… nice enough. She let Henry ask about his adoption and she was honest with him and… was interested in him.” And then she hesitates. “I thought he might… feel a connection to her or… something…” She smiles as she watches Roland and Henry climbing onto the jungle gym a handful of yards away from them. “But he really did just want to know why she gave him up and if she regretted the choice.”

“How did she respond? I don’t imagine that was an easy question to answer.

A little edges onto Regina’s lips. “She told him that… it was the right choice at the time and she thinks that he’s where he’s supposed to be.”

“He is where he’s supposed to be,” Robin tells her. “And, uh… the… other thing?”

“The curse?” She asks, her voice dropping an octave as she looks over at him and shakes her head. “Nothing’s different.”

“That’s… too bad.”

“Yeah,” she nods, not completely agreeing but also not wanting him to know that. “I guess I’ll just… have to count on the epic love of Prince Charming and Snow White to break my curse… and if that doesn’t work… well… then I don’t know. I guess I’ll… just have to figure it out.”

For a second, Robin doesn’t say anything and she redirects her attention to the boys, watching as they reach the top of the jungle gym and point their wands at each other. “Just, uh, remember that… if you can’t that’s not the end of the world.” She looks over at him and watches a faint grin stretches across his lips. “I know it’s not what you want to do, but we could always leave. I want you to know that will always be an option.”

“That wouldn’t be fair.”

“I know,” Robin says with a slight nod. “But I’m not all that concerned about what’s fair.’

“You?” She asks, her eyebrow arching as a little chuckle escapes her and her stomach drops. “The good and noble Robin Hood aren’t concerned about fairness?”

Robin’s eyes roll and she can see him chewing at the inside of his cheek as his eyes narrow. “You know that I have a code…”

“I do and I’d hate to think you’d give that up for… me and my mistakes.”

“You’re worth throwing all of that away for,” he says, his voice firm and sincere. “I care about this town and the people who live here, and I do think they deserve to know who they are. But there are three people in this world I care about just a little more than the rest and if there’s ever a choice in losing you and everything we’re building together and someone else and the lives they don’t know they’re missing out on… that’s not by any stretch of the imagination a difficult choice to make.”

“You could… live with me know that I…”

“You’re trying, Regina, and if you fail, then… it won’t have been because you didn’t care enough or didn’t try hard enough. You’re not trying to take the easy way out,  but if that’s the only option you have left, then that’s how it’ll have to be.”

“You’re serious…”

“I am,” he nods. “I want a life with you.” Swallowing hard, she blinks at him. It’s not the first time he’s alluded to this and it’s not the first time he’s said it; but somehow, in the wake of the Savior’s appearance in Storybrooke, it feel heavier and more than just a possibility to a pipedream. “And if I’m faced with the possibility of losing you–of losing my memories of you, my son’s memories of you–then my code means nothing to me. I choose you, Regina–you and our boys.”

“Our boys…”

Robin offers her a crooked little smile, and she feels her throat tightening as tears well in her eyes. She wants to respond, but she can’t seem to push out her voice–this is something she never thought she’d have.

When Daniel died, she’d given up on the possibility of love and a family; and every time she dared to think that it was possible, fate–and her own self-doubt–seemed to intervene. She’d walked away from Robin in the tavern, even though the pixie dust that led her to him was a sure bet; and then, when she dared to find him again, her mother had tricked her into believing he was someone else and she lashed out, hurting herself more than anyone else. Then, years and years later, when she decided to open up her heart to a different sort of love, she’d managed to convince herself that the baby boy who filled her heart with so much joy would be better off without her.

And for the first time, she finds herself understanding–and perhaps, more importantly, believing–that love is comfort. It’s not a weakness or something that has to be coupled with pain or hardship; it came be support, it can bring acceptance and understanding, and it can offer hope in the bleakest of times.

“I love you,” she breathes out, not able to say anymore as her hand finds his and she gives it a tight squeeze as if hanging on for dear life–and he easily murmurs back the same.

______

They’re in the kitchen preparing dinner–and once more, she’s glad for the normalcy of it.

She hadn’t even realized that in the week leading up to Emma Swan’s visit just how on edge she’d been–she hadn’t realized how tense her shoulders were or how tired she was, and she hadn’t realized how her wondering and worrying crept into even the quietest of moments. She hadn’t wanted to admit to herself that she felt threatened by Emma and feared that Emma would live up to each and every idealized version of herself that Henry had spent a lifetime creating. While she told herself most of her trepidation centered around the Savior and the curse and all that that could mean, it’d simply been a facade to keep herself considering the possibility of losing her son–and somehow, with Emma Swan out of the way, the curse seemed so much less imposing.

For dinner, Henry selected fajitas and spanish rice; then, it’d been Robin’s idea to make flan for dessert–and they’d spent the better part of the early evening preparing it all.

Robin and Henry tackled the flan–and her heart swelled as Robin let Henry teach him how to make it, letting him lead him step-by-step through the recipe and asking all sorts of questions she knew he knew the answer to; and she couldn’t help but smile as Henry patiently answered each and every one his his questions. Robin nodded and listened intently, and as Henry explained how caramelize sugar.

While Henry and Robin worked on the flan, she and Roland worked rest. A soft laugh escaped her as Roland scrunched up his nose and bat his hand over his eyes as she cut into an onion, but nonetheless leaned in closer and watched the way she chopped.

“How do you do that so fast?” He asked, sniffling and blinking back the onion-induced tears. “It’s like you’re The Flash!”

“I’ve practiced a lot,” she tells him as lifts the knife and runs her finger over the flattened side. “You wanna try?” Roland eyes widen and he looks unsure. A smile twists onto Robin’s lips as he looks back over his shoulder and she offers him a quick wink as she drags Roland and his stool over to the cutting board. “Okay,” she begins as she grabs a wedge of onion. “Are you ready?”

“I think,” Roland begins, sniffling again, “I am.”

“Take the handle,” she instructs, watching as Roland slowly does and then looks up at her in seek of her approval. “Good… just like that,” she murmurs as she places one hand over his and ses the other to guide the onion–and then, she begins to shop. Roland laughs out as the knife moves up and down, cutting the wedge of onion into tiny little pieces. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

“Can we do a pepper, too?” Robin turns and his eyebrow arches. “I like the green ones.”

“Okay,” Regina nods, her eyes shifting toward Robin. “But how about we do some of the other colors, too?”

Roland considers for a moment. “Okay, but I’ll only eat the green ones.”

“Really? But the red and orange ones are sweeter. You’re missing out.” Again. Regina glances to Robin and she stifles the urge to laugh when his lips part as Roland conders. “They really put the green ones to shame,” she says as her attention shifts back to Roland. “How about we start chopping while you decide.”

She and Roland continue to chop and Robin and Henry mix the cream and eggs and overly generous splash of vanilla–and Robin scoffs as Roland tentatively bites into a spear of orange pepper, then takes a larger bite as a smile edges onto his lips. Regina laughs and tells him to go wash the onion off of his hands, adding that it’ll make the peppers taste even better as she scoops them into a bowl–and a moment, she gets swept up in the lightheartedness of the moment.

And then, it comes to a crashing halt.

“The sky isn’t as pretty tonight,” Roland says, his voice rising over the handheld beater.

“What do you mean?” Henry asks, as his the beater slows. “The sunset is always pretty.”

“But yesterday,” Roland begins as he turns to face them all with soapy hands. “The clouds were fluffy and purple. They looked like cotton candy… if the blue kind and the pink kind got mixed together.”

Henry’s eyes widen. “That sounds so cool. I didn’t notice it though.”  
  


“Well, we were… a little busy yesterday,” Regina tell him, her eyes slide to Robin’s, and it takes him only a moment to understand. “I… didn’t notice it either.”

“Daddy and John thought it might an eclair.”

“Eclipse, Roland,” Robin says.

“Same thing…”

Henry giggles. “An eclair is like a… long doughnut filled with cream and has chocolate sauce on the top. An eclipse is…” His brow furrows and he looks to Robin and Regina. “I don’t actually know what an eclipse is.” He pauses. “And I’ve never had an eclair…”

Robin chuckles as Regina takes a breath. “Why don’t you two go wash up upstairs while we make the rice and fajita meat.” She watches as the boys nod and walk toward the stairs–as Roland tries to describe what an eclair tastes like–and then Robin turns to her. “That… wasn’t an eclipse last night, was it?”

“No,” she says, breathing out a long breath as her hands find her hips. “Not it wasn’t an eclipse.”

“Magic?”

She nods, “Something like that.” Her teeth catch her lip and she looks at him, unsure. In the Enchanted Forest it would have been a sign that something was magical was coming. She remembers standing in the window of her castle, moments after casting the Dark Curse, watching as the sky turned a deep shade of purple. She remembers the panic that overtook the village, the way they’d been both frenzied and immobilized with fear. But the impact had been almost immediate–and the next morning she found herself smiling as she looked out another window in another world. “It means… that something is coming. I’m… not sure what, exactly, or when… just that it is.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“I… think so,” she nods. “I want to think so.” She pauses and momentarily gets lost in her thoughts–momentarily wondering if she’d been mistaken before, that perhaps the Savior’s arrival had been enough to break the curse, but her stay had simply been too short, and perhaps they were now all stuck in limbo.  “Do you… think that… it’s possible that…” Her voice trails off as she tries to choose the words, and when can’t find them, she looks to Robin.

Robin hesitates for a moment. “You know more about this sort of thing than I do.”

“Right,” she says quietly. “That’s true…”

“What does your gut say?”

“My gut…” she murmurs back, looking up at him.

“Your gut reaction, what is it?”

For a moment, she considers–and then a small smile edges onto her lips and for a reason she can’t explain, she finds herself thinking of Emma Swan and something she said to Henry while they were eating at Granny, something about being exactly where he was supposed to be. “I think… this is just… another piece of the puzzle coming together,” she says, nodding and growing more secure in her answer. “First, I had to find a way for Henry to believe in something and now the Savior’s brought the possibility of magic to Storybrooke… and the rest… will happen when it happens.”

“You sound sure,” he says, a grin tugging up at the corner of his mouth. “You sound calm.”

“I… feel calm,” she admits as a slight laugh rises into her voice. “For now, at least.”

“For now,” he repeats, nodding as he reaches for a box of rice. “Calm for now is a very good thing.” He offers her a little wink and shakes the box. “Now, do you want to handle the rice or the steak?” Grinning, she grabs the box of rice.

_____

They  spend the rest of the evening eating fajitas and flan, and playing the Harry Potter version of Clue–and in the moment, it’s easy enough to forget about the curse and what should come next. Henry’s excitement only fuels Roland’s, starting with the rule book that looks like the Daily Prophet to the ever-shifting passageways in the game to the frequent trips to Dumbledore’s office in search of clues to the final reveal the culprit was none other than Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall using the Portkey.

Henry opts not to ask to read more of the Goblet of Fire and instead, after the trundle beneath Henry’s bed is pulled out and the boys are both tucked in, Robin sits on the edge of trundle telling them adventurous tales of highway robberies and breaking into the castles of greedy tyrants. He swears that the stories are made up, that they’re figments of his imagination, but as she sits beside Henry on the edge of his bed, she can’t help notice the underlying theme that each story has–how closely they tow the line of his code–and she wonders if these aren’t the real adventures of Robin Hood–the stories that only Robin Hood himself could know.

Robin wraps up the last story as both boys’ eyelids grow heavy and Regina flicks on the nightlight before they kiss them goodnight–and then it’s time for them to go to bed. As she closes the door, she can see Robin’s smile and shining eyes through her mirror, and when she turns to him, his hands find her hips and he guides her to him.

“You’re in an awfully good mood today.”

“I am,” she says, nodding agreeably. “Today’s been a good day.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Well,” she begins as her arms link around his neck. “I got to spend it with three of my favorite people…” She pauses as a chuckle rises into her voice. “And, I don’t know what it is, i just feel… calm about everything.”

“Calm…”

“I know it’s only the calm before the storm, but…” Her shoulder shrug. “I just want to enjoy that before the next round of… stomach-dropping, sleep-deprivation, practically crippling anxiety sets in.”

“I see,” he murmurs as his eyes narrow. “I… can’t help but notice that this newfound serenity has found you now that Emma Swan is in your past.”

Her smile tightens. “That… may have contributed.”

“I told you that you didn’t have to worry about her…”

Regina sighs. “I know, but… he had eight years of expectations and…”

“That’s a lot of anyone to live up to.”

“But I thought maybe she could. I mean, she’s… the Savior, she’s supposed to be this… force to be reckoned with, this magnetising persona who…”

“Who can’t hold a candle to you in Henry’s eyes,” Robin interjects, his eyes soft as his fingers press into her hip. “You sell yourself short far too often.”

“My ego has never been…”

“Anything more than a mask.” Momentarily, her eyes fall away from his and when she looks back, she finds her cheeks flushing as a little grin tugs up from the corners of her mouth. “You’re a pretty amazing person. I just wish you saw that.” Her cheeks flush deeper as he takes a step back and her fingers clench around his hand, keeping him from drifting too far away. “So, do you… want to keep this good feeling going?”

Her head tips to the side and she lets him lead her into the adjoining bathroom. Her eyebrow arches as he flips on the lightswitch and tugs her close. “You seem to have something in mind…”

“You’re right,” he says as his hand presses into the small of her back. “I missed you yesterday.”

“We saw each other…”

“But that was only for a couple of minutes and… as much as I missed you, I could recognize that you and Henry needed some time together, some space…” A grin twists onto his lips. “But even though my head understood that, my heart just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She laughs a little as his grin brightens. “Is that so?”

“Indeed it is,” he murmurs. “And I got to thinking that it’d be nice to just… let go for a bit.” His eyes move away from her, momentarily falling to the shower doors and her lip catches between her teeth as she follows his gaze; and when she looks back to him, he’s focused on her. “You were so anxious all week–you barely slept. And now that it’s all over, you deserve a….”

“A long, hot shower?” She asks, arching her eyebrow. “Perhaps with my favorite thief?”

His eyes shine as a laugh rumbles up from his chest. “I knew you found that to be an endearing trait…” Shaking her head she rolls her eyes and, again, his fingers press into her hip. “Besides, the steam will do wonders for all that residual tension.”

“Residual tension, hm?”

Robin’s hands slide up her back, his fingertips pressing firmly as they travel. “What about the boys?” She murmurs as her eyes close and his hands begin to knead at the spot just below her shoulder blades. “They’re…”

“Sound asleep down the hall,” Robin supplies. “And even on the nights Henry wakes up, he usually gets a few hours of sleep before that happens.” He grins as she rolls her shoulders. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Laughing a little, she nods. “A hot shower does sound like a nice way to end a long week.”

It’s not long after that that they’re encompassed by steam. Her back is against the cold tile and her legs are wrapped around him as the hot water beats down onto them–and for a while the stress of the week and any yet to come is the furthest thing from her mind.

When it’s all done and their adequately dried off, they put on pajamas and crawl into bed. Robin tugs her toward him and she rests her head on his still-warm chest, breathing in the soft scent of her soap on his skin. He presses a kiss to her hair, and for awhile the quiet serenity continues–and then, just like all of the good things in her life, reservations slowly begin to seep in.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks, tilting her head up and resting her chin on his chest. “Before… in the Enchanted Forest, when I was…. the Evil Queen…”

“Regina…”

“No, I just… I need to ask…”  A lopsided smile tugs up at one corner of her mouth. “I already know the answer, but…” Her voice trails off and she takes a breath. “Was everyone terrified of me?”

She watches him hesitate. “When you were Queen,” he begins carefully, intentionally leaving out the moniker that accompanies the title, “you had to do what you had to do to maintain order and…”

“That’s not what I asked,” she cuts him, appreciating his attempt to shield her. “You’ve made your thoughts perfectly clear about my… governing abilities and you’ve done a good job of putting them into context.” She takes a breath, swallowing hard as his hand rubs at her back. “And that’s all fine and… in a lot of ways it is comforting, but… I’m asking how people felt about it, not whether it was justified or if it’s common. I’m asking how people felt about it.”

Again, he hesitates. Bringing his hand up, he tucks her hair behind her ear and lets the back of his hand fall against her cheek–and she can tell he doesn’t want to be honest with her and he doesn’t want to hurt her. “Yes, they were terrified.”

“I know…”

“They didn’t kn–”

“Why would have they have wanted to know me?” She offers a tight smile. “And unlike me, they haven’t had a couple of decades to calm down.”

“Well,” he begins as his brow creases. “Neither did I, and… I got over it pretty quickly.”

“That’s different. You… care about me.”

Robin laughs softly and shakes his head. “There’s an understatement, if I’ve ever heard one…”

“I just mean that your relationship with me is… different.”  Taking a breath, a small smile spreads across her lips. “I’ve done nothing to change anyone’s opinion of me… because… I thought I’d never have to.”

“Until Henry came along.” She nods and her smile warms at the mention of her son. “I happen to know that Mary-Margaret Blanchard likes you.”

At that, her eyes widen and she laughs out. “I hardly think some cupcakes and volunteering at school functions are going to erase the years I spent trying to murder her.”

Robin grimaces a little. “Maybe not but… it has to matter that for all these years, she’s been a sitting duck and you’ve done nothing to harm her.” He pauses as his thumb rubs down the length of her jawline. “Where is this coming from?”

For a moment, she doesn’t respond because she’s not quite sure how. While her sudden change of mood is seems abrupt, it’s a problem that’s been looming in the back of her conscious for awhile–it’s just that more pressing matters took the forefront. “I just… suddenly realized that… Henry could lose me and now that his birth mother has come and gone, there won’t be a savior to swoop in and… take him away from it all if… that happens.”

“Regina, nothing is going to happen to you.”  
  


“You… don’t know that,” she says, sighing as she pulls herself  up. “When I find a way to break the curse that’s… going to be messy. People are going to be angry and they’re going to want retribution and… not even I would blame them for…”

“Stop.”

“Robin, for Henry’s whole life, every time things have gotten really hard and really scary, he’s had this… image to hang onto. He had this image of his birth mother, whom he built up to be this perfect, invincible wonder woman who’d spent a lifetime trying to find him… a lifetime trying to rescue him.”

“He told you that?”

“No,” she admits quietly. “Archie did. He told Archie.”

“Ah…”

“He doesn’t have that image anymore. Emma was… wonderful with him. She was interested and the was nice, but she was human and… that shattered the image of this superhero who’d save him whenever things got really tough for him.” Shrugging her shoulders and takes a breath. “Now, he just has me and…”

“And you are a wonderful person to have.”

A slight smile edges onto her lips. “Maybe, but… if something were to happen to me….”

“Regina, don’t…”

“Would you take care of him?” She cuts in, her voice piquing as her breath catches in her chest. “Would you make sure that… he was alright and he…”

“Yes,” he says, not hesitating as he sits up. “Just like I will always be there for you, I’ll always be there for Henry. I can promise you that.” He smiles a little sadly and his hand slides over her hip. “And I can also promise you that I’m not just going to let something happen to you. I don’t care how these people feel about you and I don’t care how angry they are or what they feel you owe them or about whatever consequence they decide you deserve, I am not going to let them hurt you.”

Her chest tightens and she nods, leaning in and resting her forehead against his. She wants to say something, but she’s not quite sure what to say because everything seems to fall short. His lips find hers and he kisses her softly, easing them back as he reaches for the lamp beside the bed, turning it off and making the room go dark. Breaking the kiss, he cuddles her to him, dropping a quick kiss to her hair as he murmurs something about getting sleep.

She nods and cuddles in as her eyes begin to flutter. She nuzzles closer and her eyes slowly open, and from beneath the door there’s a tiny strip of light.

“The boys are up,” she says in a loud whisper as she lifts her head.

“What?”

“I can see light from under the door.”

“Oh…”

“I wonder if Henry’s alright,” she murmurs, looking back at him momentarily before she pull away.

Before he can respond, she’s out of bed and he’s trailing behind her and when she opens the door, she hears the boys giggling. A little wave of relief washes over her, but still, she continues toward Henry’s bedroom; and when she peeks in, she spots Roland sitting on Henry’s bed. His legs are folded beneath himself and Henry’s sitting up in bed, wide-eyed and grinning as Roland tells a story.

“What’s going on in here?” She asks, stepping in as a smile stretches over her lips and Robin steps in behind her.

“Roland’s telling me about this dream he had,” Henry explains as Roland turns to look at them. “We’re we too loud? Did we wake you guys up?”

“We hadn’t even gone to bed yet,” Robin says easily as his arm forms loosely around her waist.

“I had a dream that I was wearing this funny outfit. I had a puffy shirt on, like the one Captain Hook wears in Peter Pan and I was spinning around in circles in this big field and then,” he pauses as a giggle rises into his voice. “And I fell backward into the shallow part of a river and…” Roland laughs out as he looks back at Henry, and Regina feels Robin’s arm tighten around her. “And this duck started quacking at me really loud because I splashed him!”

Regina smiles at the image Roland’s created and then, as Robin’s fingers press into her hip, she realizes that Roland’s dream wasn’t a dream at all– it was a memory. And her stomach drops.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As people in Storybrooke begin to “remember things” Regina worries about the effect it’ll have on Henry; using the storybook that he keeps stealing, Robin attempts to console her.

Regina takes a long, deep breath as gets out of her car and stares at the elementary school. She smooths her skirt and blinks up at the school, finding the window she knows to be Mary Margaret Blanchard’s third-grade classroom–and her stomach flutters.

She’d stood in this exact spot countless times–she’d held meetings at the school hundreds of times over the years to discuss reading programs and math programs, to evaluate how the budget would be spent and to hand out honor roll certificates at the end of the school year. And, over the course of the past several months, she’d visited the elementary school in a new role as a parent. She attended class parties and school events, and every morning she dropped Henry off and every afternoon, she picked him up. He led her through the halls and pointed out his artwork when it was pinned onto the bulletin board outside of the art room, and tugged her into the library after tutoring to check out books to read during Silent Reading time and on the weekends.

But today, she was here for a cordial, casual visit, and she’d brought a gift basket– a gift basket for Mary Margaret Blanchard, the unofficial chair of the made-up Hospital Visitation Program she started in an effort to bring Prince Charming back to Snow White… a concept that, at times, befuddled even her.

Rolling her shoulders, she pushes herself forward, putting on a smile as she enters the school and makes her way to Mary Margaret’s classroom–and she’s only partially surprised to find her alone, sitting at her desk, grading and humming softy.

“Knock, knock,” she murmurs in a voice that’s too chipper as she taps her knuckles against the frame of the door and tries not to cringe at herself. “I think I’m a little early…”

“Oh, no, you’re right on time!” Mary Margaret says brightly. “And today is a double specials day, so we have plenty of time to chat.”

“Oh… that’s… that’s good.”

Mary Margaret nods–and then her eyes widen and she gasps a little. “But before we begin our official business, I just finished grading Henry’s math quiz and…” She pulls a paper from the stack and holds it out to Regina. “80! Not bad!”

“Oh, he’ll be so excited,” Regina says, taking the quiz and smiling warmly at eraser smudges that cover it–evidence that he’s putting to use the strategies that Robin has been working on with him to check over his work. “Can I… can I have this?”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret says easily. “I was going to hand them back tomorrow morning, but…” she shrugs, “I don’t see why he can’t have it a little early.”

“Thank you,” Regina says in earnest. “I… uh…” Her voice trails off and she’s not quite sure what to say. “Just… thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. He’s doing the work, not me.”

“I know, but it’s hard for him and…”

“And he’s got a great mom who’s helping him through it.” Regina feels her cheeks flush and her stomach flutters, and she’s not quite sure how to respond to that– especially when it comes from the woman who was once her step-daughter, the woman she’d watched grow up and had turned on. Her stomach tightens and she looks back to the math quiz, and suddenly her throat feels dry. “Well, anyway, I guess we should move on to the visitation program.”

“Oh… right…” Taking a quick breath, she swallows hard and tries to collect herself. “Oh! I, um, I brought this for you. It’s…” Awkwardly, she shifts forward and hand the basket to Mary Margaret. “…just a little something for your efforts.”

She watches as Mary Margaret’s eyes widen in surprise. “You really didn’t have to…”

“I know,” Regina cuts in, nodding as she watches Mary Margaret sifts through the basket’s contents, remembering how she’d gritted her teeth that morning as she’d put it all together in her office. “But I wanted to,” she lies. “You’ve… been so… wonderful with this program.”

“Ohh,” she breathes out as she pulls out a little chubby stuffed bird–one that’s not unlike the ones she used to let perch on her fingers as a little girl–immediately giving it a little squeeze–and laughing out when the bird chirps. “He sings!”

“Mm, yes… yes, he does…”

“Oh, this is adorable and it’s filled with so many of my favorite things!” She looks up. “Is this pear!?”

“Oil, yes,” Regina nods. “There’s a little diffuser in there, too.” A tight grin pulls onto her lips. “Something just told me that you weren’t much of an apple lover, despite your profession.”

“I love pears!”

Regina nods, and fights against her instinct to roll her eyes. She knows how much Snow White loves pears–and she still remembers the tantrums she’d throw when she didn’t get warmed pears for dessert when she was a child. Putting the basket together hadn’t been at all difficult, once she got over actually having to do it, and she’d filled it with things she knew that Mary Margaret would enjoy, even if only subconsciously. She included things reminiscent of her former life, a life she hadn’t known she left behind and she hoped it might spark something. “There’s a book of nature poems in there, too,” Regina murmurs absently. “I thought you might… like that,” she says, hesitating momentarily. “And, I thought that maybe you could share some of these things with your… patient.”

“That’s so thoughtful…”

Again, Regina nods–and this time, inhales a short breath. “On that note, I was…” Her voice halts as Mary Margaret takes a few steps forward, closing the comfortable gap around them as her arms wrap around her and she draws her into a hug. Regina tenses immediately, her shoulders rising as her back tightens–and she takes a short breath as her eyes sink closed before raising her arm to pat Mary Margaret’s back with a stiff hand.  “Um…” Mary Margaret backs away and Regina release her breath and blinks a few times as she bristles.

“I’m sorry. I’m a hugger, I…”

“Of course,” Regina mutters beneath her breath, swallowing hard as she tries not to scowl at the unsolicited touch. “So, uh, about the, um… the program…”

“Oh, yes…” Mary Margaret murmurs, nodding as a wistful little smile tugs onto her lips.

“I was curious how you feel it’s going with… your visits to your John Doe.” Her stomach flutters a bit. “I know you’ve got a difficult case.”

“Oh… no, no,” Mary Margaret cuts in. “It’s not difficult. I… like him.”

“He’s in a coma,” Regina says flatly.

“I know,” she nods, her cheeks flushing in a way that’s both endearing and annoying. “But…I don’t know, there’s just something about him.” Her cheeks flush deeper and Regina’s eyes widen as a soft giggle escapes her. “There’s just something calming about being with him, just sitting there and reading to him and…” She shrugs. “And now I have some new poetry to read him.”

A grin twists onto Regina’s lips and she stifles the laugh that tries to rise into her voice. “If only i could cast some spell and wake him up for you.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret breathes out. “If only.”

“You really like him.”

“Is that crazy?” She asks, leaning in a little as her voice drops. “I guess I’ve just… built him up in my head or something.” Instinctively, Regina leans back a little to maintain a comfortable distance. “I guess that says a lot about my love life.”

“Maybe, but it’s… it’s not completely crazy,” Regina muses. “Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Maybe,” Mary Margaret nods, again looking a little wistful as the conversation moves to more official–and comfortable–topics, like budgetary needs and support the Mayor’s office or even the hospital can offer to its volunteers. And as they talk, a little flicker of hope rises into Regina’s chest, and she can’t see how Mary Margaret’s little crush on her comatose Prince Charming can anything other than a good sign, and finally she feels like she making progress.

_____

Regina leaves her office later than she’d hoped, and though the sun is still shining when she gets into her car to drive to Robin’s cabin to meet him and the boys, it’s nearly dusk by the time she gets there.

As soon as she turns the key in the lock and starts to push open the door, she smiles at the sound of Henry and Roland laughing–and her breath catches in her chest and she watches as they jump on Robin, knocking him back against the carpet. He laughs, too, as his his arms wrap around each of them, rolling back and forth as he tickles them.

Robin’s head falls back as her heard her footsteps, and he offered her a sheepish grin. “I believe _this_ is why rootbeer floats for dinner is a poor choice.”

Regina’s eyebrows arch. “You didn’t…”

“He did!”

“I told him you wouldn’t think it was a good idea,” Roland calls out, as Robin sits up and shoots him a look. “Well, I did.”

“Tattle,” he returns, winking at his son as he lifts both boys under his arms and drops them down onto the couch as he stands. “I was doing my best Mr. Miyagi impression and… things got a little out of hand.” Regina chuckles softly as she shakes her head, and Robin tosses Henry the remote. “Want to finish the movie?”

Henry nods and the boys settle in on the couch, still giggling as Robin jogs over to the kitchen to meet Regina. “You didn’t have to stop. I can manage to figure out something that’ll work as a proper dinner,” she says, opening the refrigerator as Robin presses a quick kiss to her cheek, then leans back against the edge of the counter. “How does Roland feel about sausage?”

“He’ll eat if if you tell him it’s a hot dog.”

Regina blinks and shakes her head. “Hm, sounds like a challenge.” A grin tugs onto lips as she reaches for a package of Italian sausage. “And it’s thawed.”

“I… wanted to talk to you about something,” he begins, glancing quickly back at the boys who are once again engrossed in _The Karate Kid_. “Henry had… sort of a rough day.”

“What?” She asks, her eyes widening. “What happened?”

“At first, he wouldn’t tell me much, but he was quite upset after school.” He pauses and his eyes shift to the empty ice cream carton and the cans of root beer on the counter. “I managed to coax it out of him by offering up extra chocolate drizzle.”

“Oh,” Regina breathes out, turning to face him–her chest tightening at the realization that her son was upset and she wasn’t there for him, opting to work a little later than usual to finish a few menial tasks. “So, what happened? I was just meeting with Mary Margaret and she didn’t say anything.”

“I think it happened after that… in gym class.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not even sure Mary Margaret knew anything had happened.” He takes a breath. “Henry was pretty adamant about keeping it to himself.”

“Ah…” Taking a breath, she bristles, not really knowing how she feels–after all, these sorts of things were common with kids, but understanding that didn’t matter when it was  _her_ kid. “Did he tell you what happened?”

Robin hesitates. “So, he’s mentioned his friend Matthew? The boy…”

“Who sits across from him,” Regina interjects with a nod. “He talks about him sometimes.”

“Yes, well, today in gym, Matty got to be a dodgeball captain, and whenever they get to choose teams, Matty always picks Henry first and Henry always picks Matty first…but… today, that didn’t happen.” Robin pauses for a moment and she feels her stomach tightening with the anticipation of more. “So, Henry asked him about it after class and Matty told him that his mom said she doesn’t want him playing with Henry anymore…”

Regina’s eyes widen and she feels heat rising at the back of her neck as anger bubbles up from her core. “And did Matty say why his mother would tell him something like that?” And then, her stomach drops when Robin hesitates. “Oh… it’s… me.”

Robin nods. “Henry didn’t anything about the reason and I’m not sure that Matty supplied one, outside of his mother saying she’d prefer him not to play with…”

“ _My_  son…”

“Yeah…”

“Oh,” Regina breathes out, her head tipping back as her eyes press closed–and the anger at her core intensifies as it shifts from some nameless, faceless woman to herself. “I assume that means she’s… remembered something about me, something undoubtedly terrible.”

“Maybe,” Robin murmurs in reply as her head tilts back up to look at him, watching the way he stares at her and watching the way his lip catches between his teeth as if he knows whatever he’s about to say will sting. “There’s… a little more that I think is worth mentioning.” Her eyebrows arch as she lets out a shaky breath, nodding for him to continue as a faint grin tugs up onto his lips. “Henry defended you.”

“What?” Her breath catches–it’s not at all what she expected to hear. “He… defended me?”

“He… said that you were a good person and if someone didn’t like you or believed bad things about you, then he didn’t want to be friends with that sort of person.”

Her head dips forward and she reaches up to rub at her temple. “He shouldn’t have to…”

“Henry defending your honor isn’t a bad thing, Regina.”

“Good or bad, it doesn’t matter. He’s a kid. He should have to defend the terrible things I’ve…”

“He loves you,” Robin cuts in. “And he sees the good in you because, in spite of everything and in spite of what you might believe, there’s a lot of good to see.”

For a moment, she doesn’t reply–and she finds herself wondering what it is that Matty’s mother remembered about her. Her eyes press shut and she takes a long, deep breath–and the worst part is, it could have been any number of terrible deeds, each no better than the rest. She can’t blame the boy’s mother for not wanting her child anywhere near her because if the tables were turned, she’d do the same–she just hates that Henry’s caught in the crossfire.

“Hey,” Robin says, stepping forward and sliding his hands over her hips. “Why don’t you go sit with the boys, and I’ll handle dinner.” He drops a quick kiss to her forehead. “He’s okay, Regina. Don’t beat yourself up over this. It’s not your…”

“But it _is_  my fault,” she says with a tired sigh. “Everything is.”

Taking the package of sausage from her, Robin sets it onto the counter beside them and tugs her into a hug. His arms fold around her as her head instinctively falls to his shoulder. He rubs her back and rocks her gently, offering comfort she doesn’t deserve, but desperately wants–and for an all too brief moment, she melts into him and wishes she could feel like the person he believes she is.

“Okay,” Robin murmurs gently, as he steps back. “Go on, go cuddle your boy. You’ll feel better.”

Regina nods and she can feel him watching her as she goes, joining the boys on the couch. A smile pulls onto her face as Roland stares wide-eyed and unblinking at the movie, barely aware that she’s joined them, and Henry scoots back on the couch to sit up against her. Leaning down, she drops a kiss to the top of his head and she smooths his hair, smiling when he tilts his head back and grins at her.

“I heard you had a tough day,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “It was kinda tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Henry considers, then shakes his head. “No. Matty was just being rude.”

“Oh yeah?”

Henry nods, then looks back to the TV. “I’m better at dodgeball, anyway,” he says easily. “My team won.”

Regina smiles a bit uneasily. “Are you sure? How was he being rude?”

Henry shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, making it clear that he didn’t want to tell her and obviously unaware that Robin had already informed her about what Matty said to him. She sighs and kisses him again, as her arm folds around his chest–and she hates that he feels the need to protect her.

When the movie’s over, Robin has dinner on the table, and everything feels normal. Roland refuses to eat the sweet potato fries until he sees Henry enjoying them and he puts so much mustard onto his sausage, it’s easy to see why he thinks it’s hot dog. Regina laughs when he insists on eating only the red peppers–remembering them from another dinner at her house, when they’d had fajitas and she’d made him try them–and Robin’s eyes roll when Regina gets him to try some of the sauted onions on top of the mustard and sausage.

After dinner, the boys do their homework and she proudly shows off Henry’s quiz score, making his cheeks flush and before he can recover, Robin scoops him up and tosses him in the air, telling him how proud he is of his progress. Henry helps Roland with his homework–a reading worksheet about Native American myths that has an accompanying coloring page, and her heart flutters as she watches Henry help Roland pick out the colors he should used based on the details in the story.

Robin comes up behind her, hugging her back against him as his lips find her jaw, leaving behind a trail of fluttering kisses. “Are you staying tonight?”

“Oh,” she breathes out, looking back at him from over her shoulder. “I… don’t know.”

“You have clothes here and so does Henry.”

“I know…”

“And Roland and I would love to have breakfast with the two of you tomorrow before school.”

“He’s not the only one…”

“So, you’ll stay?”

Regina takes a breath, turning and linking her arms loosely around his neck. “I want to, but…” Her voice trails off and she looks back at Henry, listening as he explains why a reddish-brown color is a good choice for the picture, even though it’s ugly, pointing out the terracotta pottery in the story. “He does seem content,” she murmurs, as she looks back at Robin. “I… suppose we could stay the night… as long as Henry doesn’t mind.” She grins. “And I’m positive he won’t mind.”

She rolls her eyes as a victorious smile tugs onto Robin’s lips. “You know,” he begins, stepping back and leading her into the living room. “You never told me about your meeting with Mary Margaret.”

Regina sighs and rolls her eyes, letting him pull her down into the armchair with him. “She hugged me.”

Robin blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“Mary Margaret Blanchard _hugged_  me.”

“Why on earth would she do a thing like that?” He asks, practically snorting an in effort to keep from laughing. “Wasn’t it a… business meeting?”

“Sort of,” Regina nods, grimacing a as she looks up at him. “I gave her… a gift basket.”

Robin blinks again. “Oh… that’s…” His lips purse and it’s evident that he’s trying not to laugh. “Awfully kind.”

“I needed to give her some things that might… help jog her memory a bit.” She pauses and her lip catches between her teeth. “I included some pear-scented oil that might be laced with something to… help with that.”

“Laced with something,” he repeats. “You’re going to drug her?”

Regina’s eyes widen. “You make it sound like I roofied her drink.” Robin laugh out and his arms tighten around her–and she sighs, audibly annoyed as tears begin to seep from the sides. “What?” She asks, sighing as she jabs at him. “Why is that so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice breathless. “I just… I can’t get over this.” Her eyes widen and he takes a breath in an effort to compose himself. “You, the Evil Queen, mixing up love potions to…”

Rolling her eyes, she pushes at his chest. “Shut up.”

“You are adorably _terrible_  at this evil thing,” he laughs. “Did you include apples, too?”

“No,” she scoffs. “It’d be waste of a perfectly good apple.”

Robin presses a kiss to her temple and his lips flutter against her skin as he laugh. “Of course it would be…”

Rolling her eyes, she cuddles into him, letting him hold her as she continues to tell him about her meeting with Mary Margaret. She tells him about the poetry and already growing attraction Mary Margaret feels for David, despite his comatose state. Robin laughs softly and shakes his head–and every now and then, he remembers the laced pear oil and heartier laugh rises up from his chest. She rolls her eyes and scoffs at him, playfully swatting at him–and for just a little while, the guilt subsides.

_____

“Are you _sure_  you don’t mind staying here tonight,” Regina asks as she pulls out the trundle from beneath Roland’s bed. “Because we can always…”

“Mom,” Henry cuts in. “I’m absolutely sure.” He grins. “Just like I was the other _two hundred times_  you asked me about it.”

“Well, I just want to be sure,” she says, sighs as she sits on the edge of the bed, “I know your had kind of a rough day and sometimes, especially after a bad day, it can be kind of nice to curl up in your own bed and…”

“Mom, I like being here,” Henry says, sitting down on the bed beside her in a pair of Captain America pajamas they leave at Robin’s for occasions like this . “Just like I like when Robin and Roland stay with us.” He shrugs. “We’re kind of like a little family and I like that.”

A lopsided grin pulls up from the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, we kinda are, I guess.” Reaching out, she combs her fingers through his hair. “Are you sure you won’t miss reading Harry Potter though? You keep saying a good part is coming up.”

Henry giggles. “A good part is  _always_  coming up,” he says. “Besides, we can always read double tomorrow.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?”

“Maybe you have a sixth sense!”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” she says, a soft chuckle rising into her voice. “So, you’re really sure you want to stay?”

Henry’s eyes widen a little and a grin twists onto her lips. “Do you remember how Emma said she had that superpower… you know, how she can tell when people are lying?”

“I do,” she replies, a little caught off guard by the mention of Emma Swan. “Why?”

“Well… I think that… maybe I have something like that, too?”

Regina’s brow arches. “You can tell when people are lying?”

“Not… exactly,” Henry say, shifting a little as he fumbles with his fingers. “It’s different for me,” he says slowly, still trying to work out the details. “But I can tell when people have a good heart.” He blinks as he looks up at her, and suddenly, he looks so serious. “I can tell if a person is a good person or a bad person,” he says as her chest tightens as her heart beats a little faster. “That’s how I knew I could trust you that night you took me to dinner in New York and that’s how I knew inviting Roland and Robin over for a movie was a good idea.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, not really knowing what to say and not really understanding the feeling that surges through her–an odd mix of relief and guilt that warms her heart but causes a knot to form in her stomach. Taking a short breath, she forces a smile–a smile that she does it’s best to conceal what she’s thinking and feeling. “Is this your way of telling me I need to stop checking with you whenever Robin invites us to stay?”

“Kinda…” Henry admits in a sheepish voice as his shoulder shrug. “He’s not going to hurt us, Mom. Trust me.”

She sighs a little wistfully as she looks at him, nodding as she takes a breath. There’s something so bittersweet about the moment–his need to reassure her and his steadfast belief in her goodness; but she knows that soon, that belief will be tested and he’ll no longer be able to look at her as simply as he does now. Soon, he’ll see her for who she really is and hanging onto the notion that she’s the person he believes she is won’t be an option–and her stomach churns as she hopes he’ll be able to reconcile it and move on. Reaching out, she gives his hand a soft little squeeze as a mix of emotion surges through her–and wants so desperately to be the person he thinks she is and it breaks her heart to know she’ll never live up to his expectation.

“I wonder if I have any other powers,” Henry murmurs through a giggle, pulling her back into the moment. “Harry didn’t find out he was a wizard until he was eleven,” he says. “So, it’s possible…”

A warm grin tugs onto her lips and she laughs, watching the way his grin brightens at the thought of magical powers–and for a brief moment, she lets herself imagine what it’d be like to introduce him to magic, real magic that he doesn’t know exists all around him. She knows he’d be enamoured by it, drawn to it through his natural curiosity, and she wonders which spells and potions would become his favorites. She imagines him conjuring cupcakes and using it for a proper game of quidditch, and she imagines him using his powers for good, for the reasons she once was naive enough to think she’d use it.

Her thoughts quickly shift to other things as Roland and Robin join them in Roland’s bedroom–and Robin ushers both boys into their beds, tucking the covers tight around them. Regina grins as she watches–she loves watching Robin with them, watching how sweet and soft he is–and once they’re nestled beneath the covers, Robin flicks on the nightlight and turns off the lights. She settles on the edge of Henry’s bed and Robin sits at the foot of it, telling them another story that leaves them wide-eyed and gasping for more rather than making them want to sleep–a story that’s likely another adventure of the real Robin Hood.

But eventually, their eyelids grow heavy and Robin and Regina say their goodnights.

Robin’s fingers lace through hers as he leads her to his bedroom–quickly turning down the bed while she brushes her teeth and takes off her make up. She can’t help but grin when she steps back into the bedroom, finding him sitting up in bed, waiting for her. She chuckles softly as he pulls back the corner of the blanket and pats the open space beside him, and she shakes her head as she climbs in, sighing as she leans back against the pillows.

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” he says, looking over at her.

A faint grin pulls onto her lips. “I am, too.”

“How’s Henry doing?” He asks, sliding down on the bed and rolling onto his side to face her. “It seemed like you two were in the middle of a pretty serious chat when Roland and I came in.”

“Oh, no…” she murmurs, staring up at the ceiling. “We were just… talking about magical powers.” She blinks as her head turns on the pillow. “He… says he has the power to tell when people are good-hearted.”

“I believe that,” Robin says easily. “He’s a good judge of character. You should see him in my shop. He knows exactly who’s serious about buying something and who’s just… browsing so they can order it cheaper online.” He chuckles softly, his blue eyes shining in a way that never fails to make her heart flutter. “I wish he could train John to do the same.”

Regina’s eyes roll. “I’m glad he can be useful.”

“Very much so.”

She lets out a shallow breath as she rolls onto her side and tucks her hand beneath her cheek. “I’m going to let him down,” she says quietly. “And prove him wrong.”

“What?”

“He… told me that he used his superpower–his ability to tell if someone had a good heart–when he met me. He said it’s how he knew that he could trust me, that’s why he let me take him to dinner and… then…” She sighs. “Everything he thinks he has with me is… is based on a lie.”

“That’s not true, Regina.”

“It is,” she says, her voice shaky and hushed as she feels herself nearing the verge of tears. “He’s going to be crushed and… it’s my fault.”

“You… don’t know that,” Robin says, his hand falling over her hip and kneading gently. “You can’t know.”

“He’s already hurting…” Robin’s brow creases and she can tell that he’s not quite following. “What happened today in gym class, that’s all because…”

“No,” Robin cuts in. “Yes, Henry was upset about that, but that’s hardly your fault.”

“Whatever Matty’s mom thinks I did… I probably did.”

“Maybe,” Robin says with a curt nod. “But she doesn’t know that.” Regina’s lips part to argue–to insist that that hardly matters–but Robin’s fingers press more firmly into her hip and he leans in a little. “Regina, what she does with that information–information she doesn’t know is true, even if it is–is her choice. And it was her choice to use that information to…”

“She was trying to protect her son.”

“From what? Henry?” Robin blinks. “We’re not talking about saying he can’t attend play dates and slumber parties at your house. We’re talking about playing dodgeball in gym class. That’s hardly the same.” Regina sighs and tries to roll back onto her back, but Robin holds tighter, stopping her. “I’m not saying you’re completely blameless, I’m just saying that… you can’t shoulder all of it.”

“But set it all into motion, Robin. None of this would be…”

“You didn’t, though.” She blinks and her brow creases, not understanding–she’s the one who cast the curse and she holds the blame for any resulting fall out. “Regina, you didn’t act alone.”

“Yes, I did,” she cuts in. “I don’t know why you’d…” Robin sighs as he rolls away, reaching over the edge of the bed for something she can’t see on the floor. She sits up a little, craning her neck a little as Robin pulls himself back up, dropping the leather-bound storybook that had appeared just after Christmas onto his lap. “Where did that come from?” She asks, her eyebrow arching as she tips her head.

“Your office,” he replies plainly, opening the cover and thumbing through the pages.

“Obviously, but why is it here?” She asks, sitting up.

“I snagged it the last time I was in your office.”

“You know you don’t have to steal it every time you feel the need to look at it.”

Robin shrugs and offers her a grin. “I know, but it’s more fun this way.” Regina sighs and her eyes roll, but she rests her chin on Robin’s shoulder, watching as he quickly turns the pages. “It’s also handy when I have to prove you wrong about your own story.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. It is _my_  story, after all.”

Robin turns to look at her, a smug grin tugging onto his lips. “We’ll see about that.” Again, her eyes roll as he turns to a page, pointing down at an image that makes her wince, an image of a unicorn writing in pain as she held its heart in her hand. Her eyes pinch closed and Robin shifts himself so that he can slip an arm around her. “You have a good heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You didn’t want to use magic to hurt anyone, not even an animal.”

“But then, I… did.” Robin nods and her eyes open as he turns the page. “I killed that girl. I… reached into her chest and I ripped out of her heart and I did it because…”

“You were trying to prove yourself.” At that she scoffs. “Regina, you aren’t innately evil. You never wanted to be the person you became, but you didn’t see another way.” She rests her head on his shoulders, letting him hold her as she remembers–remembering how trapped she felt, how alone she was, how her pleas for help fell on deaf ears and how she thought magic–even dark magic–could bring back the one person who’d ever shown her real love and kindness. She takes a breath in an effort to keep her eyes at bay, remembering the way Jefferson explained it, remembering how she’d told herself that end would justify the means. “You didn’t act alone and I know you don’t like to think of yourself as a pawn…”

“Because I made the choices. In the end, everything I did, I chose to do.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, “But you were led to those choices–that was done purposefully. You can’t shoulder all of the blame for everything that happened because of them.”

“Still…”

“Regina,” he cuts in. “You were made into a what Rumplestiltskin needed you to be, to serve his needs, to meet his desires. No one told you that though. You were kept in the dark and starved of hope and love and anything that might save you and… and it wasn’t until it was too late to go back that you realized it.”

“So, what does that make me then?”

“A good person who made mistakes.”

Again, she scoffs–but he presses a kiss to her hair as he closes the book and pulls her into a tight embrace. Part of her wants to pull away, part of her wants to fight it and insist that he’s wrong–that she wasn’t a pawn in someone else’s game, that she hadn’t been duped into doing terrible, unforgivable things. But instead, she curls into him, letting him hold her and comfort her–accepting the support she’d never before been offered.

_____

When her eyes flutter open, it’s morning.

Regina stretches out on the bed, extending her arms and legs as she yawns, feeling more rested than she usually does when she wakes. Rolling onto her side, she inhales deeply, taking in the soft, comforting scent of Robin’s pillow–and as her eyes finally fluttered open, she realizes how much brighter the sun is.

Her eyes widen as she sits up, realizing that it’s later than her usual wake-up time. Running her hands through her hair, she sit up, suddenly feeling a little panicked and disoriented. She can hear Robin talking to Henry and Roland and she smell eggs frying as she shove away the covers and scrambles out of bed, scrunching her hair and adjusting her pajamas as she pads toward the kitchen, where she’s greeted by three warm smiles.

The boys are already dressed in their uniforms–wearing matching gray sweaters with their slacks–and ready for school, and Robin’s standing at the stove, making them breakfast.

“Good morning,” Robin calls, as he flips an egg. “We weren’t sure if you’d be joining us.”

“Well considering it’s now two hours _after_  I was supposed to get up,” she replies, eyeing Robin as her hand brushes across Henry’s back, “I can’t imagine why not.”

“You needed sleep,” Robin says flatly, as bagel halves pop up from the toaster.

“And how would you know that?”

“Because you didn’t sleep well last night,” he murmurs, absently as he layers Canadian bacon and sauteed spinach onto the bagel halves. “And I know that–not only because I was lying right beside you–but because you slept right through your alarm.”

“You could have woken me…”

“I tried,” Robin muses as a grin stretches into his lips. “You grunted and rolled over.”

“Oh…”

“And once I finally got your alarm to stop screaming…”

“It was really loud,” Henry cuts in as Roland nods. “It woke us up.”

She looks down at him. “Oh, and I just…”

“Rolled over at grunted,” Robin says, as a grin tugs into his lips. “So I figured that meant you wanted to sleep, and when I was turning off your alarm your calendar popped up and said you didn’t have anything scheduled until ten and,” he drops an egg into the spinach and tops it off with the other half of the bagel, “I figured it was fate.” Momentarily, his attention shifts to the boys. “Fried egg for you,” he says, setting one of the plates in front of Roland and then the other in front of Henry. “And sunny side up for you.”

A slight grin pulls onto her lips as she looks down at the breakfast sandwiches, thinking of the ones he gets at Granny’s on days he has to open the store and remembering the sandwiches she made for him the first time she’d–albeit inadvertently–stayed the night.

“So, did you figure out my sauce?”

Robin blinks up at her as a sly grin edges onto his lips. “I… did not. Mine’s not bad, but… it’s not yours.”

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she nods. “It’s horseradish mixed into the mayo.”

Roland’s eyes widen and he looks up at them, mid-chew. “Is that fr _om actual_  horses?”

“No, sweetie,” Regina laughs.

“And even if it were, it’s not on that sandwich.”

Robin turns back to the counter, quickly assembling two more breakfast sandwiches–and she reaches for the coffee, pouring a cup and inhaling the steam. She takes a long sip and closes her eyes, savoring it as she feels her annoyance over waking up late quickly dissipates.

They eat breakfast with the boys and Roland chatters on about it being scooter day in gym class–his favorite activity because he can pretend that his scooter is the Batmobile. Henry grins and giggles, explaining about the double block of language arts which means plenty of time for reading his new library book, _Chasing Vermeer_. When breakfast is through, Regina clears the plates while Robin helps the boys with their coats and backpacks–and she can’t help but notice the way Roland watches Henry sling the backpack over one shoulder, and the does the same.

Henry gives her a quick kiss and Roland hugs her at the waist, then Robin ushers them out the door, promising her a quick return and urging her to take her time getting ready and ease into her day. She rolls her eyes but nods, stepping up to the window and watching as Robin lifts the boys into his truck–and a smile pulls onto her lips as she watches them go.

Taking a breath, Regina sips her coffee, not really knowing what to do with herself–she’s never done well with downtime, preferring to keep herself focused and busy and not allow her thoughts to wander too far.

She ends up in the bedroom, curled up with her coffee on Robin’s bed and with the storybook in her lap. She lets her fingers trail over the gold leaf lettering and she thinks back to what Robin said to her the night before not being solely responsible for the curse and the inevitable fall out–and she takes a breath, and opens the book, flipping quickly to a familiar story. Her breath catches in her chest, getting stuck as tears form in her eyes and she looks down at an illustration Daniel smiling in her direction. She’s wearing her favorite blue riding jacket and long braid, and though her face isn’t showing, she remembers how brightly she’d smiled and how light her heart felt–so light, she was certain that had she not been holding onto Rocinante’s reigns, she’d have floated away.

The story should have been a comfort–that had been such a happy morning spent riding through the fields on her parents’ estate and picnicking on the bank of a shallow little stream  that ran through it. But that story, just like every other story with Daniel was tainted by its end. Her stomach lurches as she remembers that last look–when his eyes met hers and she’d seen the fear that resonated in them at the realization that he was about to die at her mother’s hand, that he was about to die for having committed the crime of loving her.

A shaky breath escapes her as she blinks back her tears and she closes the the book, shoving it away from her as she struggles against her tears and memories. Daniel would have hated the person she became and she hates herself for the way she’s sullied his memory.

Opening her eyes, she look around the room, looking for a way to distract to distract herself, not wanting to slip too far into the self-loathing that so easily found her. She finds a picture on Robin’s dresser, tucked away in a corner, behind some lotion and a hoodie that should probably have been tossed into the hamper. Slowly, she reaches for it, staring at a picture that she only has a vague memory of taking, but nonetheless, a smile draws onto her lips as she remembers Roland holding up Robin’s phone as they’d all sat in her kitchen, waiting for the oven timer to go off. They were huddled together and Robin’s arm was around her as Henry leaned back against her and Roland’s tongue poked through the gap where only a day before, a loose tooth had been.

She focuses on Robin–he looks so happy. His blue eyes are bright and his smile is broad, and he just looks so content, content to do something perfectly mundane, like make dinner with her on a Tuesday night. Sighing softly, she sets the picture back in it’s place, pushing the lotion out of the way and tossing the hoodie into the hamper–and she finds herself thinking that Daniel would have liked Robin, and then she thinks what a strange yet comforting thought that is.

_____

They rest of the day passes easily.

Robin returns from dropping off the boys, just as she’s getting dressed and they spend the rest of the morning in what feels like slow-motion. He sits in the bathroom with her as she does her makeup flat irons her hair–which somehow managed to curl itself during the night–and he tells her about the upcoming events at his store he thinks Henry would enjoy. She nods and smiles, offering the occasional monosyllabic response as he suggests archery lessons now that the weather was improving, remembering how he’d enjoyed it the first few times he tried it in the fall.

And, it proves to be a wonderful distraction.

They drove together into town, parking in a lot between City Hall and Main Street–and Robin almost gleefully pointed out this meant she’d have to drive home with him, and at that point she and Henry should stay for dinner, and then, at that point, they should again stay the night. She’d laughed softly and nodded, pecking his lips before turning in the direction of her office–and once more, she was reminded of how lucky she was to have his love and support.

Her meetings quickly and before she realizes it, it’s the end of the day–or what she decides she’ll call the end of the day.

Regina’s heels click against the tile as she heads back toward her office, ready to grab her jacket and be done for the day. She sighs as she sees her secretary perk up and a pink note sheet, waving toward her in an effort to catch her attention.

“Something tells me I have a phone call,” she murmurs, her eyebrow arching as she plucks the paper from her secretary’s fingers. “From… the elementary schools?” Her brow creases. “Is this about Henry? Why didn’t you pull me out of the meeting?”

“Oh, well, Ms. Blanchard said that it wasn’t urgent…”

“Whenever it’s about my son,” Regina says, her voice dropping an octave in a way that’s almost chilling. “It’s always urgent.”

“She, um… she left a voicemail…” Regina blinks. “I think it’s on your personal…”

“You think?”

“I…”

Regina sighs, audibly annoyed at her secretary as her heart rate quickens and she turns away from her office. She walks quickly as she dials her voicemail. She’s nearly out of the building when it connects and she can feel her mouth going dry with anticipation. She glances in the direction of the clock as she exits the building, noting that it’s just after three and the school day has ended–and then, when it finally connect, her annoyance piques because all she hears is static and a few muffled words.

Her pace quickens as she walks in the direction of the elementary school, her stomach churning with worry as worst case scenarios bounce through her head–and by the time she arrives, she’s convinced she’ll find Henry sitting in the nurse’s office with a broken arm and a bloodied lip.

But when she arrives that’s not at all where she finds him.

He’s sitting in the library at a table, working through math problems using brightly colored blocks. There’s a little girl sitting with him–Paige, maybe–and they’re she’s helping him, pointing to blocks and as Henry looks between them and his paper. And he’s fine–he’s absolutely fine.

She feels her shoulders relax as relief washes over her and a soft grin pulls onto her lips, and for just a moment, she’s content to just stand there and watch.

And then, she hears the high-pitched laugh of Mary Margaret Blanchard.

Her lips part as she watches Robin’s arm cross over his chest, as he nods, obviously in the middle of a conversation with Mary Margaret. She laughs again and this time, so does he–and she feels an odd feeling stirring in her chest, noting how familiar and comfortable they seem with one another. She’s quick to realize that it’s not jealousy she feels–Robin is one of the few things she’s sure of in her life–but it’s something else altogether, something else that feels uncomfortable.

Robin’s head dips forward and his finger press into his brow as Mary Margaret’s cheeks flush a bit–and it’s clear this isn’t a random conversation about curriculum or a student, but a personal conversation and the sort of conversation one would have with a friend. And again, she feels that odd sensation stirring in her chest.

She thinks about turning around and going back outside to wait for Henry to finish–there’s no real reason for her to interrupt any of it; but then, she remember that fuzzy voicemail and her curiosity is piqued because while Henry appears to be fine, the voicemail was left and it was left for a reason. Her stomach flutters  bit and without thinking, she steps into the library, wondering if there was another situation with Matty or perhaps another child or maybe he’d really struggled with the math lesson or…

“Mayor Mills!” Mary Margaret calls out, her voice a little too bright as she waves. “It’s so nice to see you.”

Regina bristles as a tight smile pulls onto her lips. “Ms. Blanchard, hello.” Her eyes slide to Robin and he looks too amused.

“What brings you by?”

“Well, I got your voicemail… sort of.” She pauses, glancing toward Robin as her eyes narrow. “But if you’re in the middle of…”

“No, no,” he cuts in, his blue eyes glittering with amusement. “You’re not interrupting anything. Mary Margaret was just telling me how much she’s enjoying visiting her John Doe and how wonderful you new Hospital Visitation Program is.” He nods. “I think she’s trying to rope me into volunteering.”

“I see…”

“She could just _hug you_  for selecting her to be a part of it.”

Regina’s eyes remain fixed on Robin and Mary Margaret smiles brightly. “I think he liked the poems.”

“I’m… so glad.”

“Oh! But the voicemail,” Mary Margaret says, her cheeks flushed and her voice flustered, obviously wanting to shift the conversation away from her crush on the comatose patient. “I just wanted to let you know that Henry had a better day.”

“Oh… I’m… I’m so glad to hear that,” Regina says, her demeanor changing as she glances back at Henry.

“In fact, I think he’s made a new best friend.” Regina blinks as she turns back to her. “Paige is adopted, too,” Mary Margaret confesses, her voice dropping slightly. “I think she can Henry bonded over that. They’ve always been friendly, but…” Regina feels a grin forming on her lips. “Today was different and it was nice to see.”

“Paige is… the girl he had to dance with.”

“Yes!”

“He likes her.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Mary Margaret confides. “Funny and smart… a wonderful student.”

“And you… just called to tell me about it?”

Mary Margaret nods and Regina feels her heart flutter with appreciation–and before she can offer her gratitude or even fully process it, Mary Margaret’s eyes shift past her as she notices a student raising his hand, needing her attention. She takes a step toward him, and then stops turning back as warm grin edges onto her lips and she glances between Robin and Regina. “I know we don’t know each other very well, Mayor Mills, but I just wanted to say how glad I am to see you so happy these days.”

“Henry’s brought more joy into my life than I ever knew was possible.”

A grin twists onto her lips and her eyes slide to Robin. “I don’t just mean Henry,” she says as she looks back at Regina. “It’s always nice when good people find happiness together.”

Regina’s eyes widen as her and her brows arch and even beneath his stubble, she can see his cheeks slightly flushing. “Why do I get the impression you weren’t just talking about her crush on a certain John Doe?”

“Well, _today_  that’s all we were talking about…”

“Today,” she repeats. “There have been… other conversations?”

“Several, actually…”

“Oh…”

“And you… might come up every now and then.” Robin chuckles softly as her lips purse. “We work together, Regina. It’s only natural that we’d talk. It’s nothing.”

“I realize that I just… didn’t realize that you were… so friendly with her.”

“You’re not jealous…”

“No,” she’s quick to say. “I just… need time to process… that you and Mary Margaret are friends and that you failed to mention that for so long.”

He nods as a tight smile pulls onto his lips. “We also went on an absolutely disastrous date once upon a time,” he offers, somewhat abruptly as her eyes widen. “You should ask me about it sometime. I think you’d be amused.”  Robin laughs softly as he reaches out and gives her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze. “Okay, well, I’ve got to make rounds and make sure everyone’s on task,” he says, his fingers rubbing over the back of her hand. “Are you still planning to come over for dinner?”

She nods. “I just have to stop by my house and grab a couple of things.”

“Oh?”

“Your spice cabinet is awfully sparse.”

“It is,” he admits, as a chuckle rises into his voice. “But you’ve met my son, so you can understand why.”

She nods and grins, turning his hand in hers and giving it a tight squeeze, silently reassuring him that she’s not upset. Leaning in, she presses a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek and slips out of the library, unnoticed by Henry. She laughs a little as she wonders just how disastrous that date was and she thinks of wide-eyed Snow White singing to birds and telling dull stories about horseback riding. As she leaves the elementary school and heads toward Main Street and eventually Mifflin, her head swims with thoughts, mostly surrounding what to make for dinner on a warm spring day.

When she reaches her house, she fishes out her key, unlocking her door as she decides on some sort of toasted sandwich and a pasta salad. She steps inside and drops down her keys on the table in the foyer–and just as she steps away from it and moves toward the stairs, her shoe slides against something on the floor. She manages to keep her balance and her heart leaps, and when she looks down, she notices a piece of folded paper sticking out from underneath her shoe. Muttering a slew of hushed expletives, she crouches to pick up the paper. Her brow creases as she looks at it, turning it over in her hands as she examine the unfamiliar note–an old parchment-type paper that’s sealed with wax. She feels her jaw tighten as her finger slips under the seal, ripping it open and unfolding it–and then, her heart beat quickens, beating wildly, as a sharp gasp escapes her and she reads the single line written in ink on the page. “Cora would be disappointed,” it says.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reeling from the mysterious note she found under her door, Regina realizes it’s time to tell Henry the truth, but she has no idea where to begin.

She tried to pretend that she was alright; and she tried to pretend that nothing was wrong.

She made an excuse for her late arrival at the elementary, forcing a smile onto her lips as Robin pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. For awhile, they’d leaned against the fence at the playground, watching as the boys swung higher and higher, jumping off into the sand before comparing their distances, and all the while she felt Robin’s eyes on her–and all the while she insisted that she was fine.

But she wasn’t.

The whole way back to the elementary school, her hands had been stuffed into her pockets, her fingers folded tightly around the note as her mind reeled. As she walked she couldn’t help but feel like everyone was watching her–watching her and remembering all the horrendous things she’d done, watching her and plotting their revenge. There’d been a time when none of that would have bothered her, when she knew that no matter what wrath they threw at her, she could throw back worse. There’d been a time she had no shortage of defenses–most of them magical– and even if those defenses had failed, even if she’d found herself in defeated, she’s not sure it would have mattered. The consequences were hers and hers alone, the prices hers to pay.

Sucking in a breath, she reaches for a red pepper, trying not to think about how different things are now, or how she feels like she has a purpose and a reason to live or how that raises the stakes. Slicing into the pepper, she tries not to think about how her internal struggle to do the right thing has become increasingly easier since Henry came into her life and she tries not to think about how much–

 _Damn it_.

Looking down, she winces, watching as blood beads at the side of her finger–and for a split second, all she can do is stare at it.

“Oh, my god, Regina,” Robin voice calls out, bringing her back into the present moment. “You cut yourself.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he replies, his voice piquing with concern.

She feels herself nod as she looks down at the little gash on her finger. “I just… nicked it,” she replies, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he counters, reaching for her hand–and an involuntary little laugh escapes her as he takes her hand, carefully holding her cut finger above her head. “Come on…”

“Robin, I’m sure I can just rinse…”

“No,” he cuts in. “You can’t just rinse it off.”

She sighs and he leads her into the bathroom, pointing to the toilet as he releases her hand. Her eyes roll as she sits, watching as he fishes a first-aid kit from the cabinet and then crouches down in front of her. A little grin pulls onto her lips as she watches him wipe away the still-pooling blood and blot it with a little piece of gauze.

“A bandaid would…”

“…not be sufficient,” he says absently as he reaches for a tube of antibiotic cream and a q-tip, and her bottom lip catches between her teeth as she gently touches the q-tip to her cut. “It’s deeper than you think.”

“I think that’s the problem,” she murmurs as he wipes away the excess. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“No?”

“No,” he tells her as he reaches for a thick band-aid and pulls back the paper wrapping. “You seemed quite lost in thought.” Taking a breath, she concedes with a nod and he wraps the a fresh piece of gauze around her finger, securing it with medical tape. “You’ve been distracted since you got to the elementary school.”

“I… guess that’s true.”

Grinning, his eyes momentarily meet hers. “You don’t have to tell me, but… it might help.”

He looks away, giving her hand a quick little squeeze before standing and returning the first-aid kit to the cabinet.

“Someone… knows,” she quietly admits in voice that’s barely audible.

“Knows what?”

“Someone knows who I am… who I really am,” she murmurs, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the note. “They don’t suspect or having inexplicable flashes of memories… they know.” Swallowing hard, she holds the note out to him as he turns back to her with a creased brow. “It could be anyone.” Regina watches as Robin unfolds the note, and she feels the knot in her stomach tightening as she watches as his eyes read over the single line of text. “It was there when I got home, and…” Momentarily her voice trails off and her eyes press closed. “What if Henry had been home? What if he’d seen the note? What if…”

“Regina, don’t do that to yourself.”

“It’s a reasonable worry.”

“It is reasonable, but it didn’t happen.”

“It could happen again or worse, what if whoever wrote that note approached us? What if…”

Crouching down in front of her, he rubs his hands over her knees and up her thighs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not though,” she tells him, her voice cracking slightly as she feels her jaw starting to tremble. “Robin, none of this is okay.” Shaking her head, she sucks in a breath. “I still haven’t figured out how to tell him, I just know that I need to be the one to do it.”

“Then we’ll just have to figure it out,” he says simply.

A soft grin tugs up from the corner of her mouth. “How are you so calm about this?”

“One of us has to be,” he says, squeezing her knee. “Besides, things happen when they’re supposed to, so maybe it’s just time.”

“Maybe. I just wish I knew who sent the _damn note_ , that way I could…” A grin twists onto Robin’s lips as he squeezes her knees again. “What?”

“You’ve got that… murdery little glint in your eye.”

Her eyebrow arches. “Excuse me?”

“That look you get when you want to tear someone to shreds…”

“I didn’t realize there was _a look_.”

“Oh, there’s a look all right, but I don’t think this note is… all bad.” Robin’s grin widens as her eyes narrow. “I mean, look, it says your mother would be disappointed, right?”

Regina bristles. “Robin, I don’t see what…”

“You’re obviously doing something right,” he cuts in. “Because–please correct me if I’m wrong–your mother was about as heartless as they come.”

“No pun intended…”

“Regina, is this person is saying that your mother would be disappointed, that means you are doing something very right… something good, something that would only disappoint your mother or…”

“Someone who thought like her.”

“Exactly,” he nods, offering her an adorable victorious smile. “That narrows it down a bit, yeah?”

Regina nods and sighs, her heartbeat quickening as the knot in her stomach once more tightens as she considers the only viable option in Storybrooke. “It does… unfortunately.”

Robin winks as he pushes himself up, dropping a quick peck on her lips. “So, how about this,” he begins a he stands. “We forget about making dinner and we order a couple of pizzas. We can get the little, personal-sized ones with all sorts of different toppings and a big antipasto salad, and those breadsticks that are smothered in parmesan cheese and melted butter that you pretend to hate…”

A grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “Those things are a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“Should I not get them, then?”

Regina’s eyes roll and she shakes her head. “Don’t you dare even consider that. I need comfort food.”

“I’d never,” he murmurs, turning back to her and tugging her up and wrapping his arms around her hips as her arms instinctively form around his neck. “It’s going to work out…”

“You seem so sure.”

“I am.”

She nods, not quite believing him. “I was really hoping that the epic fairytale love of Snow White and Prince Charming could save the day.”

“Who knows. Maybe it will… or maybe you need to make a little magic of your own.”

She looks curiously at him as her head tips to the side. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know, really,” he admits. “But we’ll figure this out.”

“We?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “You and me, we’re in this together.”

Nodding, she wants to believe him and she wants to believe that things will just sort themselves out. Yet every day she knows they’re losing time, every day brings them closer to the curse resetting, and every day threatens to destroy the future she so desperately wants–a future her son deserves.

_____

It’s late when she steps out of the shower. She towel-dries her hair and runs a comb through it, feeling far too lazy to actually blow it dry and deciding to just deal with the mess of curls the next morning. She slips into a pair of Robin’s boxer shorts and pulls on a tank top, and when she steps out of his bed room, he’s grinning at her from the couch.

“You’re still up…”

“I am,” he nods, reaching to the end table beside him and then holding out a beer to her. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m rubbing off on you.”

He chuckles softly and shrugs. “The boys are dead asleep. I went in to check on them and, Henry is unphased by Roland’s snoring.” He shakes his head. “It’s amazing how much noise can come out of something so small.”

“I believe that’s the definition of a food coma,” she says, sitting down on the couch beside him and curling her legs beneath herself as she takes the beer.

Robin takes a breath, then turns his head to look at her. “Did the shower help?”

“A little…”

“So, no…”

She nods. “I just keep thinking about that note and someone telling Henry before I find a way and…” She sighs and takes a long sip of the beer. “And I still can’t figure out a way to tell him who I really am without sounding… completely crazy.”

“Ease him into it…”

“And how do you suppose I do that? Start by telling him I murdered someone once then, slowly increase the body count?” Her eyebrow arches. “Go from tentative guilt to psychotic euphoria, then serve up some cookies before bed?”

“Okay,” he murmurs, taking in a breath. “You need a distraction.”

“Or a time machine.”

“Well, I can’t give you that, but I can distract you.”

“You think?”

He nods as a grin twists onto my lips. “I could tell you about that date I had with Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

Regina’s eyes wide and she feels a grin tugging up from the corner of her mouth. “So, you’re going to kiss and tell?”

“Oh, no, no, there was no kissing.”

“Not even a little peck?” She asks, trying to stifle a giggle bubbling up in her chest. “Not even a little kiss goodnight?”

“No, nothing like that, but I did walk away with some peanut butter blossoms.”

Regina’s smile fades as her brow arches. “She baked for you? Was it… good?”

“I don’t know,” Robin laughs. “I was too afraid to eat them. I thought she might have… spiked them. She was acting… very odd.”

Regina snorts and takes a sip of the beer. “Tell me more.”

“Okay,” he says, a smile twisting onto his lips. “Well, I was telling John about things woman I’d seen through the window–dark hair and sassy, wearing a gray coat with a blue scarf… and a few days later, a woman with dark hair in gray coat a blue scarf came into the store, and John… thought he was doing me a favor.”

“Gray coat and a blue scarf, hm?”

“It was you.”

“I gathered…”

“Well, when I got to her apartment, I realized the mistake and figure… how bad could it be?” She grins and he laughs and shakes his head. “When I arrived, she let me in and apologized for the mess. She’d been doing some spring cleaning and… there were little stuffed animals all over the place.”

“Stuffed animals…”

“Birds and little woodland creatures mostly,” he said with a nod as she bites down on her lip. “Those little ones with the foam beads in them…”

“Beanie babies,” she supplies as her eyes widen.

“Yes, those, and I made a comment about my son having the same little stuffed woodchuck, and…” He shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer. “And she told me she couldn’t wait to be a parent.”

“On a first date…”

“On a first meeting.”

“That’s worse,” Regina says, as a smile pulls onto her lips. “That’s so much worse.”

“It was awkward to say the least,” Robin agrees with a nod. “And then she gave me the cookies.”

“Oh, how…”

“Odd? Yes…”

Laughing, Regina tips her head to the side. “So, you… had to carry them with you the whole time?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going back to that apartment.”

“No, certainly not…”

Robin sighs. “So, we got to the restaurant…”

“Did you walk or drive?”

He laughs as his head tips to the side. “We walked. It was close to where she lived and…” He laughs out and his eyes widen. “I’d forgotten this, but she was humming.”

“Of course, she was.”

“It was… almost endearing,” he says as he takes another swig of the beer. “Almost, but not quite.”

“This is so good…”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying my discomfort,” he says, as a chuckle rises into his voice. “So, we got to the restaurant and we were seated at a nice little table that was thankfully in a well-lit section, right smack dab in the center of the restaurant, and I told her I heard they had an excellent house salad dressing… and she told me that she thought that particular restaurant would be a lovely location for a wedding reception.”

“She didn’t…”

“Oh, yes. Yes, she did.”

“How did you respond?”

Robin grimaces a little and shrugs his shoulders. “By telling her that perhaps, if she knew anyone getting married, she could recommend it.”

“Ouch…”

“Well…”

“Tell me more.”

“You’re enjoying this…”

“More than I can even say.”

“Alright, let’s see…” For a moment, his voice trails off, and she watches as he tries to remember–and for a brief moment, she realizes that she’s actually stopped thinking about her secrets and the curse and the note, and then suddenly, it’s all she can think about. “So, I managed to survive dinner, in which she spent almost the whole time talk about how magical love–” He stops, his voice suddenly halting as his eyes met hers. “This isn’t working.”

“It was…”

“But it’s not working now.”

She shakes her head, “I just thought about how I wasn’t thinking about any of it and now…”

“It’s all you can think about again.”

“Yeah,” she says with a slight nod as she rubs her fingers against the label on the bottle. “I wouldn’t mind if you kept going though…”

“Alright,” he murmurs, taking a breath. “So, I walked her home and she asked for my number, and I…” Again his voice stops, but this time, his eyes widen as he looks to her. “I… think I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

“After that date, just to avoid her, I took Roland camping.”

Regina’s brow creases. “I… don’t think I’m following.”

“There was once a time I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather raise my son than in the Sherwood Forest. And when Roland was little, we’d spend hours and hours in the woods, climbing trees and catching frogs and…” Regina’s lip catches between her teeth and her eyes narrow. “We should all go camping. We could show Henry what life would have been like in the Enchanted Forest.”

“I… don’t camp, and I don’t see how…”

“You don’t camp? Have you ever tried it?”

“No,” she says flatly. “I am a queen and I am a little more refined.”

At that, Robin laughs out and shakes his head–and she feels her own smile pulling onto her lips. “You could use it as a way to tell him about the place you grew up.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, suddenly beginning to connect the dots. “I could do that.”

“It could ease him into the rest, help him to imagine a world where…”

“Ogres ate children for breakfast.”

Robin laughs. “I was thinking about… other aspects of life in the Enchanted Forest.”

“I know, I just… remember my mother telling me that to keep me out of the woods.”

“So, what do you think?” He asks, taking a quick sip of the beer. “Want to taking the boys camping this weekend?”

“I… won’t wear cargo pants.”

“As long as you don’t wear one of those tight little skirts you wear…”

A grin twists onto her lips as she looks to him. “My mother would be so disappointed if she knew I was spending the rest of my weekend sitting around a fire on dirty logs….cavorting with…”

“A bunch of dirty, unshowered men…”

“Oh,” she breathes out, her smile fading. “That’s right. There’s no… bathroom facilities in the forest.”

“Nope,” he says, a bit too gingerly as he leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek. “You are going to hate it.”

____

Henry giggles as Regina frowns at herself in the mirror, focusing down on the clunky hiking boots Robin picked out for her.

“They look good, Mom,” Henry says as he looks up at her through the mirror.

“No they don’t.”

“They look warm?” He says, his voice piquing questionably as he tries again. “The box says their water proof.”

“Does it say how much they weigh?” She asks, turning to face him as a grin pulls onto her lips. “Because they feel like they’re made of lead.”

“Probably the steel toe,” Henry tells her, holding up the box and pointing to a label. “See?”

“What on earth would I need steel-toed boots for?” Henry shrugs his shoulders, she asks, reaching into a bag from Robin’s store and pulling out a puffy vest in a bright primary blue and a blue and black flannel shirt. “Well, this isn’t… completely terrible, at least.”

“It took his an hour to pick it out.”

“It did?” She asks, looking up as Henry grins. “That’s… kind of sweet.”

“He said he wanted to get it all picked out before you woke up because you’d spend double time critiquing everything.”

Her eyes roll as she pushes her arms into the shirt and buttons it up over her bl.  “Well, that’s less sweet.”

Henry giggles. “He also said he picked out that one becauses blue is his favorite color on you.”

Again, her eyes meet Henry’s and a little grin pulls onto her lips as she puts on the cobalt puffy vest. “Okay, so honestly. How ridiculous do I look?”

“Not even a little bit!”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him, she folds her hands in her lap, mirroring the way he’s sitting as she looks over at him. “So, you really want to do this? Because if you don’t…”

“You’re projecting,” he says flatly, causing her eyes to widen. “I really want to go. It was really fun shopping in Robin’s store before it opened, picking everything out. Plus, I think my new boots are really cool.” He grins as he looks down to his feet, kicking them back and forth as he focuses on the brown boots with orange laces. “I’ve never been camping before and it always looks so fun in movies and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup,” he nods, looking back to her. “Everyone sits around the fire and makes s’mores, and then there are scary stories and everyone sleeps in cool tents and sleeping bags.” A grin pulls onto his lips. “My sleeping bag is red.”

“Robin got you your own sleeping bag?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, once more grinning down at his new boots. “He let me pick out all sorts of stuff.”

“Did you say thank you–for the boots and–?” Henry nods and she leans over and presses a kiss to his hair. “Then I guess it’s officially. We are going camping.” Henry giggles as she pulls back and frowns. “I am… going camping.”Henry nods and pats her shoulder, giggling at the sound his hand makes against the vest. “Alright,” she says, standing up and taking in a breath. “Let’s go get some breakfast before we… go camping.”

Henry giggles as he trots out of the bedroom on her heels, quickly joining Roland at the kitchen table and reaching for a slice of toast.

“So, I hear you think I’m a pain in the ass to shop with,” she says, letting a grin twist onto her lips as she arches an eyebrow at Robin as he turns to face her, his eyes widening a little as he looks to Henry.

“Those were _not_ my words,” Henry insists as he looks back, absently plunging a spoon into a jar of jam. “I’m not even allowed to _say_ one of those words.”

Shaking his head, Robin chuckles and leans in, pressing a kiss to her cheek before handing her a glass of orange juice. “First of all, I am out of apple juice, and second of all, that’s not at all what I meant. I know that the clothes in my store… aren’t exactly your style.”

“No, they’re not.”

“So, on a scale from one to you want to burn it, how did I do?”

From the kitchen, she hears a soft gasp escape Roland, and he looks between them. “I think Regina looks pretty,” he interjects as his brow creases. “I think she always looks pretty.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she murmurs in reply, offering him a warm smile and a quick wink that succeed in flushing his cheeks before he turns almost shyly back to his toast.

“I’m really batting a thousand, here…”

“Well,” she says, taking a quick sip of the juice as her eyes turn back to Robin. “I do like this shade of blue with black…and, it’s warm.” She laughs softly as Robin’s eyes light up triumphantly–and in that moment, she can’t help but see that same shy little grin that Roland wore just a moment before. “I am a little curious about the shoes, though.”

“Oh, well, they’re hiking boots…”

“With a steel toe.”

“Yes.”

“They’re a bit… heavy.”

Robin nods. “They are, and when you stub your toe on a rock or a tree stump, you’ll be less bothered by it.” Spinning around, he grabs a heaping plate of scrambled eggs with sausage mixed into them, and offers her a quick wink. “I’ve bandaged up enough of you this weekend.”

Regina laughs as she looks down at her bandaged finger, remembering how overly dramatic he’d been, holding up her hand and dragging her into the bathroom to patch her up. Taking another sip of the juice, she smiles over the rim, watching as Robin serves the boys a generous helping of the scrambled eggs and tops off their glasses of juice, before sliding into a chair across from them. He divides the rest of the eggs between the plates–one for himself and one for her–and he grabs a few pieces of toast, arranging them at the side of the eggs. He prepares her toast first, grinning almost proudly as he shows her the apple butter label before slathering it onto her toast.

“Come on, let’s eat,” he tells her as he pushes out the fourth chair with his foot. “The sooner we finish breakfast the sooner we can get into the woods.”

“We’re already in the woods,” she tells him as she comes to sit down beside him.

“Oh, no, no, no. We’re just barely in the woods here,” he says as a grin pulls onto his lips. “Just wait.”

Letting out a breath, a tight smile forms on her lips and she feels herself nod as her shoulders tense. Henry and Roland both giggle, and despite how much she isn’t looking forward to any aspect of this camping excursion, she is looking forward to getting away from everything for a little while and focusing on enjoying the people that she loves.

_____

“You can’t be serious, Regina,” Robin sighs and he puts the truck in park. “You’re seriously going to make us do this? We were just…”

“It’ll take five minutes,” she cuts in, her voice piquing in defense. “Besides, if you’re going

“She’s right,” Henry says with a nod as he leans forward and presses his hands to the back of Robin’s seat. “She’s a lot happier when she has her coffee. And when she’s happier, she’s nicer.” Henry giggles and her eyes narrow. “Last week, she made the mail man cry.”

“That’s an overstatement.”

“His  jaw was trembling.”

“Because he knew he was wrong.”

Henry’s eyes roll, and Roland’s brow furrows. “I always think Regina’s nice,” he says to no one in particular.

“Look, I am just going to run in, order the largest coffee Granny can make and…”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Roland announces.

This time, Henry’s brow creases and his arms fold impatiently. “You just went before we left.”

Roland shrugs. “I had a lot of juice.”

“Okay,” Robin breathes out as he turns the key to shut off the engine. “We’ll all go in. You can get your coffee,” he says, looking pointedly at her. “And I’ll take Roland to the bathroom.”

“I should probably go to the bathroom, too” Henry decides. “I… kind of also had a lot of juice.”

“See,” Regina says as grin pulls onto her lips, and she climbs down from Robin’s truck. “We had to stop anyway.”

Robin just shakes his head as they corral the boys toward the diner, and she barely notices Gold holding the door open for them all. Roland drags Robin in first and then Henry follows, and then just as she’s stepping over the threshold, he laughs and a little chill runs down her spine.

“A day off, I see. You’re a bit more casual than usual.”

“It is Saturday.”

Gold nods. “Indeed it is.” He grins and turns himself, blocking the door and she feels her heartbeat quicken. “I’ve been meaning to say congratulations,” he tells her, looking behind himself where Robin and the boys. “Such a _charming_  little boy you’ve brought to us.”

Regina’s shoulders square and her jaw tightens. “Yes… he is.”

“Perhaps he’s the… breath of fresh air that this town needs,” Gold tells her, offering a little wink as he steps aside and lets her into the diner.

Regina feels her stomach drop as she watches him go, using his cane to help himself down Main Street toward the pawn shop. She takes a breath and tries to compose herself, not wanting to look shaken when she turns back to Henry. Her eyes sink closed and she finds herself thinking of the note she’d found the day before–someone who knew her past well enough to know her mother–and she thinks of the way he’d called Henry ‘charming.’ And she wonders if this means he knows–and what that will mean for all of them.

Throughout the years of the curse, she’s avoided Rumplestiltskin–here known as a Mr. Gold–and she’s been happier for it. No matter what–even in those cursed years–his presence unsettled her and she never quite trusted him to keep her secrets. Though he’d been a fog with the rest of them, he still had a strange power over her–always making her second guess herself. It had taken her years not to show her fear of him–years to keep her hands from trembling and her heart from racing, years to just nod and go along with his schemes when all she wanted to do was run. There were a handful of times she’d needed his assistance, and after each interaction she found herself unable to shake the uneasy feeling that settled inside of her.

Their last interaction had been nine years before. Nine years ago, she’d walked into his shop and asked that he help her adopt a child. It had taken all of her courage to do it–admitting she needed help was far from easy, and admitting she needed help from the man who’d manipulated and twisted her into an unrecognizable monster was nearly impossible. But she’d been desperate–desperate for someone to love, for a reason to wake up in the morning, for a purpose–and she knew how the curse worked.

Gold–Rumplestiltskin–had fashioned a position of importance in the curse. He owned most of the properties in Storybrooke, and though she was Mayor, in the earliest years of the curse, he frequently reminded her of who really called the shots. He also served as a connection to the outside world, an eccentric businessman who could come and go as he pleased–yet oddly, never did–but, accrued powerful connections and a tremendous amount of wealth. She was well aware of all of this–and though she readily denied that she’d been used as a pawn, that this was all a part of some master plan of his and her curse was cast to fulfill some ulterior motive in which she’d never been made privy, she knew it was true. And that terrified her. Yet, on the rarest of occasions, it was also something that she could use to her advantage–and she’d used it to bring Henry into her life.

After that, she’d avoided Gold for a completely different reason. He’d served as a reminder of the child who’d nearly been hers–a reminder of everything she’d almost had and everything she’d forced herself to give up, a reminder of a life she could never have–and she couldn’t let the bitterness overtake her. Not again…

“Who was that, Mom?”

“Hmm?” She asks, looking to Henry who watches her curiously with wide eyes. “What?”

“Who was that creepy man?”

“Mr. Gold,” she says, forcing a smile onto her lips. “He owns the pawn shop down the street.”

Henry considers it for a moment. “Is that the place with all the cool antiques in the window?” She nods and swallows hard. “That place looks like something from a Halloween movie.”

“Yeah,” Roland agrees with a nod–and she smiles, realizing he has no idea what he’s agreeing to.

“Alright,” Robin says, patting Roland’s messy curls as he steps around the boys. “I’ll take them to the bathroom, and you get your coffee.” She nods as he takes her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “He can’t hurt you here,” he whispers as he leans in, brushing her cheek with a fluttery kiss.

“I wish I had your confidence.”

Pulling back, he offers her a quick wink and still, he holds onto her hand. “And if he tries, I’d sooner put an arrow through his heart than let him succeed.” Smiling faintly, she shakes her head as his hand presses into the small of her back and he drops another quick kiss to her cheek. “Now go get your coffee… and I’m sure no one would complain if you got a couple of Granny’s streusel to eat as we’re setting up camp.”

“Will you tease me if I get an apple one?”

“Yes.” A grin twists onto her lips and she hears both boys giggle as she leans up onto her toes and presses a kiss to his stubbly cheek, grimacing when her toes scrunch against the steel toed boots. “But only because I love you.”

_____

Regina stand awkwardly as Robin and the boys set up the tents, and she tries not to linger on the fact that an eight and a six year old were able to offer more assistance than her. She’s useless, here, she realizes–and though it vexes her to feel that way, she does nothing to change. Robin and the boys laugh as she swats way little flying bugs and she does her best to bite her tongue when her foot slides in a patch of mud, engulfing her shoe and quite nearly taking her down–and she’s glad that Robin doesn’t take the opportunity to chide her for her complains about the clunky hiking boots.

Nonetheless, her heart warms as she listens to Henry chattering on excitedly about how much he’s looking forward to spending the night in the woods and how he’s always wanted to camp, and Roland offers him the sage advice of an kindergartener, telling him all about how to keep bugs out of the tent and which sticks not to use to make the s’mores. Robin laughs, looking up at her on occasion and offering her a little wink before turning his attention back to the boys and the task at hand.

Robin builds a fire and finally, she has something to do when it’s time to prepare lunch–and she has to admit she finds coolers Robin packed for them to be impressive. Wrapped in foil, she finds metal skewers and in little containers, are cubes of meat and cut up vegetables–the forgotten pieces of what was supposed to be the previous night’s dinner, repurposed.

Henry helps her layer the meat and vegetables onto the skewers as Robin and Roland map out a hiking route–and though she contemplates all the ways she could get out of tagging along on the hike–she can’t help but smile at the way Henry’s eyes glitter with anticipation.

They cook over an open flame and she settles back, and breathes in the smoky scent, remembering a time when this smell was commonplace… and for a moment, she gets lost in the memories of sneaking down into the kitchen the night before a big holiday feast, remembering how the cook would always give her samples to try.

“You act like you’re not enjoying this,” Henry says as he sits down beside her. “But you are.”

Grinning, she drapes her arm around his shoulders and pulling him to her. “Don’t tell Robin,” she murmurs quietly as she kisses the top of his head.

“I heard that,” Robin calls out, offering a smug smile as her eyes roll. “But if you want, I can pretend I didn’t and you can continue pretending to be disgruntled.”

“I’d like that very much,” she calls back, grinning as Robin’s eyes roll and Henry giggles.

They spend the remainder of the afternoon near the campsite, eating the kebabs and doing a little exploring–something Robin promises the boys they’ll continue in the morning, and something that makes her audibly groan. They walk down to the stream and despite her complaints about not being able to properly move her feet due to the weights attached to them, she grins as she settles on a boulder and watches as Robin teaches the boys how to skip rocks on the water–and her heart clenches the first time Henry’s rock doesn’t immediately sink, instead skipping four times across the top of the water before dropping down beneath the surface. Robin sweeps him up, tossing him in the air as he laughs out and as soon as his feet touch back to the group, he looks to her with wide eyes and a bright smile, asking if she saw.

“I did, sweetheart,” she says, nodding as her breath catches in her throat. “Good job.”

Henry nods proudly and selects another rock, and once they have the hang of it, Robin joins her. He sits down on boulder and pulls her legs over his lap. “He’s really enjoying this,” Robin says, nodding toward Henry as he shows Roland his rock-skipping technique and how he flicks his wrist.

“He is…”

“Are you?”

Her lip catches between her teeth as she looks over at him. “I’m enjoying watching Henry enjoy himself,” she says as her grin tugs wider. “And… I am pretty relaxed.”

“It’s nice to be away.”

“It is.”

“So, do you think…”

“I can use this to… tell him?” She asks, taking a breath as she looks to Henry. “Maybe.” Robin rubs his hand over her knee. “This… isn’t quite what my childhood was like, but no one had a childhood like mine… and I’d like to think that if we were there, Henry’s childhood would have been filled with… exploring the woods and skipping rocks and… all sorts of other, little adventures.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad life for a boy.”

“No…” she murmurs, her voice trailing off momentarily as she watches Henry high-five Roland as his rock skips a few times. “I just have to… do it,” she says decisively, as she looks up at him. “Before someone else does.”

“You’re… talking about more than just a few little stories about life in the Enchanted Forest.”

Regina nods. “Gold called him _charming_.”

“Do you think Gold sent that note?”

“Maybe…” Regina admits with a sigh. “Or maybe someone else knows, too.”

“And the more people who know…”

“The more likely it is that Henry finds out.” Robin presses a kiss to her temple as his arm wraps around his waist. “At least this way, you can control the way it’s told…”

“Yeah…” she nods. “And I just… have to hope he doesn’t think I’m completely crazy.”

_____

After dinner, the sky begins to darken and Robin pulls out four, heavy woolen blankets. He wraps them around each of the boys, cuddling them a little as he does, then he quickly drapes one around his own shoulders before sitting down beside Regina and wrapping her in the last blanket. She grins as his arm stretches around her and she rubs her hands out in front of the fire, murmuring something under her breath about missing the ability to conjure up fireballs to keep herself warm.

Robin laughs and the boys look up. “So,” he begins, looking between them. “What do you want to do next?”

“Dessert!” Roland declares, a proud smile tugging onto his lips for answering first. “I want dessert.”

“Okay,” Robin nods. “We could do that…” Letting go of Regina, he moves to one of the coolers and opens the top. “We have options,” he begins. “We could make our own ice cream or we could…”

“Make our own ice cream?” Roland asks, his voice giddy as he practically bounces. “We can _make_  ice cream?”

Henry’s chin tips up as he watches Robin carefully, trying to see the contents of the cooler. “In the woods? Without…um… whatever you make ice cream in?”

“Sure,” Robin answers easily. “I used to do this all of the time as a kid.” Regina feels her shoulders tense as a knot forms in her stomach at the mentioning of Robin’s childhood. “It’s easy.”

Regina’s brow arches curiously. “You used to… do this as a child?”

“All of the time,” he confirms.

“Well, I think we have a winner… and none of us ever at ate the streusel we got at Granny’s this morning, so maybe we could have that with the ice cream.”

Roland’s eyes glitter with excitement. “I got a strawberry one! That’s gonna be so good!”

Robin laughs as he motions for Henry and Roland to come toward him and he hands them each a bag. “Okay,” he begins. “Ready?” Regina watches as both boys nod, and then Robin pulls a carton of milk from the cooler and pours a little into each bag, then adds some heavy cream–and she grins, realizing this is part of some sort of plan. “Next,” he says, “Is a little sugar, vanilla and a tiny pinch of salt.”

“Salt?” Roland asks, his voice skeptical as his eyes widen. “In ice cream?”

“Yes,” Robin nods. “In ice cream.”

Henry’s shoulders shrug and he seals the bag when Robin tells him to, and then giggles as Robin hands them both a pair of oven mitts. “What are these for?” he asks, sliding them onto his hands, careful not to drop the bag.

“You’ll see,” Robin tells him, winking at Regina as he pulls out two larger bags and fills them with ice. “Now, drop your bags into these ones,” he instructions, waiting for both boys to do so before sealing the larger bags and handing them back. “Now, shake for as long as you can!”

A grin pulls onto Regina’s lips as Robin closes the cooler. He grabs four paper plates and plastic spoons as she reaches into her tote bag, pulling out the paper bag from Granny’s. She laughs as the boys continue to shake the bags until they’re breathless and red in the face.

“Now, open them up,” Robin says, sitting down beside Regina. “Look what you have!”

Roland is first to open his bag, quickly pulling out the smaller bag as his brown eyes widen. “It’s ice cream! We made our own ice cream!”

“Wow,” Henry breathes out as he opens his own bag. “It’s like magic!”

Regina’s stomach flops as Robin nods. “That’s definitely one way to describe it.”

“Or science,” Henry reasons.

“And that’s the other way,” Robin says as a chuckle rises into his voice. “Now come on over here so we can put it over the stusells.” The boys run to them as Regina places one of the pasties onto each plate and Robin helps them scoop out the ice cream and drops it over top. “Enjoy…”

“We will!” Roland says, quickly making his way back to his log on the other side of the fire.

Henry settles beside him and Regina watches as he tastes the ice cream, and then a broad smile pulling onto his lips. “It’s so good!”

“It is good,” Regina agrees looking over at Robin. “I… didn’t know ice cream could be made this way.”

Robin’s brow arches. “You never made ice cream as a girl?”

“I can’t say that I ever did, but there are a lot of things I didn’t get to do.”

“Why not?” Henry asks, looking up at her with curious eyes.

“Oh, well… when I was your age, I lived in a big house and we had a staff that… did all of the cooking and the cleaning and… the ice-cream making.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Really.”

“That’s… kind of cool,” Henry decides. “Was your house bigger than the one we live in now?”

“Much bigger, and it was on a lot of land, so we were away from everyone else.”

“Oh, that sounds… kind of lonely.”

“It was.”

“Did you have friends?”

“Not really,” Regina admits as Robin’s arm slides around her waist. “I spent a lot of time in the stables, though.”

“Stables? You had a horse?”

“I did,” she tell him, sucking in a short breath. “His name was Rocinante. He was a birthday present from my father.” A grin twists onto her lips. “I named you after him.”

“Ohh, yeah,” Henry murmurs. “You mentioned that once.” Taking another bite of the ice cream, he thinks for a moment, then looks back to her, his eyes still curious. “So, you were close with your dad?”

“When I was little…”

“But not now…”

“Well, he… he passed away a long time ago,” she says quietly, her stomach clenching. “But, um, as the years went on and I got older, we… kind of grew apart.”

“Oh, that’s… sad.”

“It is sad,” Roland agrees. “I can’t ever imagine not being close with my dad.”

“What happened? How do you… just… grow apart from someone you love?”

She smiles sadly as she looks to Henry–and for the life of her, she can’t quite remember how it started. But she remembers all of the time she looked the other way, ignore her mother’s abuse–and she remember how much hurt to realize that he would never protect her, that she was expected to just endure it. She remember all of the times he let her down, all of the times he could have helped, and all of the times she was practically screaming for him to stop her, to save her–and all of those times, once again, he’d failed her. “I don’t know,” she murmurs faintly. “I… can’t really fathom anything that could make me turn my back on my child.”

Beneath the blanket Robin squeezes her hip as he pulls her to him, offering his a loose hug that serves as reminder that she’s no longer that lonely little girl, that she now has people in her life she can rely on, that she now has a family of her choosing.

“But it wasn’t all bad,” she says, brightening as she looks to Henry. “I got to do a lot of horseback riding, which I loved and… found a friend in the stable boy.”

“What was his name?”

“Daniel.”

A grin pulls onto Henry’s lips. “My middle name.”

“You’re named after him.”

“He must have been a really good friend, then.”

Regina nods. “One of the best.”

The conversation shifts to other things, and it’s not until the fire begins to dwindle that Robin notices that Roland’s fallen asleep. He chuckles softly as he rises from his spot, telling Regina and Henry that that seems to be his cue that it’s time before as he scoops Roland up into his arms. Henry grins as his eyes shift to Regina, and she can tell that he’s not quite ready yet, so she motions to him to come to her.

She and Henry murmur their good nights before Robin disappears into the tent with Roland, and then for a moment, neither of them says anything. Regina opens up her blanket and wraps it around Henry, smiling when she cuddles into her.

“Are you having a good time?”

“A really good time,” Henry says. “Better than I expected… and I expected a lot.”

“I’m glad…”

“The only thing we haven’t gotten to do is make s’mores, but I saw Robin pack the stuff, so we’ll probably do that tomorrow,” he tells her. “Robin also said he’s going to show me and Roland what berries we can pick and eat in the morning.” Henry grins up at her. “That’s going to be cool.”

“Definitely…”

“Are you having a good time?”

“You know what? I actually am.” She hugs him a little tighter as she drops a kiss over the top of his head. “And now that the temperature’s dropped, I have a newfound appreciation for flannel shirts and puffy vests.”

“It’s a good outfit,” Henry says, turning his eyes up to meet hers. “Robin spent a really long time trying to find something you wouldn’t _completely_ hate.” He giggles a little. “The shoes were a lost cause though.”

“I think I’ve lost feeling in my toes…”

“Oh no…”

“Don’t tell Robin. I don’t want him to feel bad.”

“I won’t,” Henry tells her with a sincere nod. Leaning in, Regina presses another kiss to the top of his head. “I like hearing about your childhood, even if it was kinda sad.”

“I could… tell you more.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Sure.”

“Did you always live in Storybrooke?”

“No, I grew up… somewhere far away.”

“Far away like New York?”

“Farther.”

“California? That’s pretty far.”

“Farther,” she says, as a grin twists onto her lips.

“Germany?”

Regina laughs. “Getting closer, but… still farther.”

“Wow…”

Taking a deep breath, her eyes close and she musters up the courage to continue. “You know, I… have a this book,” she begins, opening her eyes and pulling back just enough to get a good look at him. “It’s about the place I grew up and, all of the people who lived there.”

“It’s a book?”

“Yeah, it’s like a… storybook, sort of.”

“That’s so cool.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, her stomach tightening. “It sort of is.” She pulls Henry closer and he cuddles into her, a quiet yawn escaping him. “Come on,” she murmurs, slowly standing and pulling him up. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Remember to throw sand onto the fire so we don’t burn down the forest.” Shaking her head, she laughs softly and reaches into the bucket of sand, tossing it over the fire to extinguish the flames as Henry tugs at her hand. “I just remembered I get to use my new sleeping bag!”

“That’s right, you do,” she says, letting him lead her toward the tent–and silently hoping that when tomorrow comes, she still has the courage to follow through, no matter the cost.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina shares the storybook with Henry.

Regina’s eyes flutter open and she sighs, grimacing as she’s reminded of the hard ground beneath her and the faint smell of dirt and pine that surrounds her. Sitting up, she stretches out her arms and yawns, turning her head from side to side as her neck pops and her shoulder blades crack–and for the life of her, she can’t remember why she agreed to do this.

Looking around, she finds herself alone in the tent. Robin’s sleeping bag is still out and spread out beside her, and the boys’ bags are scrunched up in a tangled mess at her feet. Through the netting of the tent, she can see Henry and Roland standing next to Robin, watching curiously as he fiddles with something over the campfire–a smile draws onto her lips.

Taking a breath, she gets up, once more cracking her back and rolling her shoulders as she unzips the front of the tent–and immediately, they turn to look at her.

“Finally joining us,” Robin muses as he looks up from the fire. “We were starting to worry.”

Regina’s eyebrows arch as she looks between them. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

“That’s… not terribly late,” she says, feeling her shoulders squaring defensively.

“But we’ve been up for hours!” Henry says, grinning up at her. “We picked berries this morning.”

“Before the sun was even up!” Roland adds. “We had to use flashlights.”

Henry nods. “Robin showed us which berries we can eat and which we shouldn’t…”

“‘Cause they might kill us,” Roland says in a very serious voice. “Like the little red ones.” A little snicker escapes her as she comes toward them, shaking her head and watching as Robin sifts through the cooler. Scooping up Roland, she sits down, beside Henry, pressing a quick kiss to his hair as Roland settles back against her with a contented sigh. “But the wild raspberries aren’t poisonous, so we picked those.”

“Ah,” she says as her arms form around him. “That was probably a smart decision”

“Yeah…”

“What are you doing over there?” She asks, still watching as Robin works behind the flame. “I… would offer to help but…”

A chuckle rises up from him and he shakes his head. “I think I can manage,” he tells her, looking back at her from over his shoulder, offering a quick wink. “Cooking over a campfire is… kind of my specialty.”

“Is it?”

“It is,” he says, finally turning around to reveal four foil-packages. “I lived in the woods for a long time,” he says, eyeing Henry. “And if I wanted to eat…”

“You had to learn,” Henry finishes.

“Exactly.” Regina feels her stomach flop as her eyes slide to Henry. “Of course, back in those days, I didn’t have the luxury of buttermilk rolls that came out of a tube.” At that, Henry giggles. “But I could suffice with day-old bread I’d stolen from the baker or could con someone into giving me…”

Regina watches as Henry’s eyes widen and his smile fades. “I used to do that, too… after I ran away.”

“Steal food?”

“Nothing major,” Henry says quickly, looking from Robin to Regina and then back again. “Just… stuff that no one wanted or stuff no one would miss.” A guilty little grin edges onto his lips. “Sample day at the grocery store was my favorite because I could get things without have to be sneaky or feeling bad about it…and no one really paid attention to if I took one or two or… five of something.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Regina murmurs as guilt stabs at her core, thinking about him wandering around, stealing grapes and little cups of cereal–and how she could have prevented all of that from ever happening. “I’m…”

“It’s okay,” Henry’s quick to say. “It wasn’t that bad…”

“Henry…”

“Henry,” Robin cuts in, his eyes focused on Regina. “Can you help me with this?”

Regina watches as he gets up gingerly and goes to Robin, and a soft smile pulls onto her lips as Robin hands him a tube of biscuits. She can’t help but laugh as Henry jumps when he smacks the tube against the side of the cooler forcing the tube to open with a loud pop–and her heart warms as Robin’s palm presses against Henry’s back as he shows him how to wrap the biscuits in foil. Robin offers her a quick wink as Henry folds a biscuit on his own, then he turns to the berries, placing them over the top of the biscuits and wrapping up the top. When everything is wrapped, Robin instructs Henry to grab a cast iron pan, and Roland giggles as Henry struggles with the heavy pan. Robin helps him to situate it in the fire, and together, they place the foil-wrapped biscuits and berries carefully into the pan.

“Now what?” Henry asks, looking curiously to Robin.

“We just have to wait.”

“Oh,” Henry murmurs, turning back to the fire and watching as the flames surround the pan. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“Why did you steal food?”

Regina feels her breath catch in her chest, and for quick moment, Robin looks to her. She nods and his attention turns back to Henry. “Because I ran away from home, and… needed to survive.”

Henry nods. “Is that why you lived in the woods?”

“It is.”

“Did you… like it?”

“I did,” Robin says with a nod. “I was surprised at home much I liked it.”

Henry nods, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything–and then, he looks to Robin. “Did you live in _these_ woods? The ones we’re in now?”

“No,” Robin says easily. “I grew up far away from here… kind of near where your mom grew up.”

Henry’s eyes widen and Regina’s stomach flops. “Really?”

“It’s true,” Robin confirms with a nod. “Back then, it seemed like we lived a million miles away from each other, but really, it was just a few miles.”

A grin tugs onto Henry’s lips and a little giggle escapes him. “It’d be funny if you guys bumped into each other and didn’t even know it.” He looks between them. “That happens in movies all the time…”

Regina grins as Robin chuckles. “Actually, that did happen… everyone knew your mom.” Henry’s jaw drops and he looks between them and her heart starts to beat a little faster. “Of course, I was… far too afraid to ever talk to her. I mean, why would a beautiful girl like her want to talk to some… dirty thief who lived in the woods.”

“Well, she likes you now…”

“She does,” Robin says, offering Regina a quick wink before turning his attention back to Henry. “Life has a funny way of working out the way it’s supposed to, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Henry murmurs, nodding as he looks to the fire. “So, is that why you live in the woods now?”

A grin pulls onto Robin’s lips, and his eyes slide to Regina. “I suppose it is. I… never really thought about it.”

“I tried living in the woods, once,” Henry says. “I didn’t like it. It was… really lonely.”

Again, Regina’s chest clenches and she hugs Roland a little tighter, and for a brief moment, she allows the guilt and self-loathing that she normally keeps tucked away to bubble up inside of her as she silently scolds herself for not having the courage to keep him, and for not stopping all the things that inevitably happened to him as result of her cowardice.

The rest of the morning is filled with smiles and laughing–and it’s easy enough to push away the regretful memories and focus on the present moment.They eat their biscuits and berries, and Robin tells the boys a few funny stories about life in the woods–one involving poison ivy in a very uncomfortable spot that sends them into a fit of laughter, and another about learning to fish the hard way. Then, when the sun is high and the fire is dwindling, they start to pack up camp and head back into Storybrooke.

They stop at Granny’s on the way home, ordering a proper and more filling breakfast–and then, when their plates are cleared, they go their separate ways.

By the time they get back to the house, Henry’s eyes are drooping. He yawns as she turns the key in the lock, and almost instinctively, he reaches for her hand. Her chest tightens as he tugs her toward the stairs, wordlessly leading her to his bedroom. For a moment, he just stands there, looking around the room–and then he looks up at her, offering a tired little grin as he asks her to nap with him.

She nods and leads him over to the bed, tucking him in before sliding in beside him–and she smile as he curls into her side. Her arms wrap around him and her own eyes close, taking long deep breaths as she rubs his back and feels her own exhaustion setting in.

“Mom?” Henry asks in a groggy voice. “Later on, can you tell me more about where you grew up?”

“Sure,” she manages to say as her eyes open and a knot forms in her stomach. “If you want me to…”

“I do,” he says, cuddling closer to her as she presses a kiss to his hair. “I want to hear more about your horse.”

She laughs a little and nods, swallowing hard as her stomach sinks with the understanding that they’re getting closer and closer to an implausible truth that will change everything–and as she holds Henry, she’s not sure that she’s ready.

But it’s not like time is on her side.

_____

A grin tugs onto her lips as Henry wanders into the kitchen, batting at his eyes and obviously disoriented. He watches as she slices a tomato, his brow furrowing as his eyes slide to a salad bowl.

“What time is it?” He asks, finally looking to her. “Are you making dinner.”

She nods. “It’s after six.”

Her grin brightens as his eyes widen. “I slept for…”

“Almost nine hours.”

“Wow…”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who didn’t sleep very well while we were camping.”

Nodding, he yawns and climbs up onto a stool at the counter. “What are you making?”

“Cobb salad.”

“Oh,” he murmurs as he stares into the bowl. “Why is it called that? Does it have corn in it?”

Regina blinks. “I… don’t know, actually. I just know that I like it.”

“Me too.”

“There’s not much you don’t like, though.”

Henry shrugs and nods. “I don’t like tuna fish.”

“I… didn’t know that,” Regina says, looking up at him. “Why not?”

“It smells like cat food,” Henry says simply, earning a laugh in response. “My foster dad used to love it,” he adds. “He’d made these sandwiches with warm tuna…”

“Tuna melts?”

“Kind of…” Henry says. “Just… he used the microwave instead of making them on the stove because he was too lazy.” Henry’s nose scrunches as her eyebrows raise. “Then, for the rest of the day the house smelled like cat food.”

“That sounds…”

“Gross?” Henry supplies. “It was.”

Regina laughs a little and reaches for another tomato. “Well, I will make a note to never make tuna sandwiches…”

“Or casseroles.”

“Got it.”

She watches as a satisfied grin pulls onto Henry’s lips. “Can I help?”

“You can make the dressing,” she suggests, pushing a little cup toward him. “I mixed everything, you just have to add the buttermilk.”

She grins as Henry nods, hopping off the stool and going to the refrigerator. He leans up onto the tips of his toes as he reaches for the carton of buttermilk and kicks the door closed as he makes his way back to the counter. He climbs up onto a stool beside her, and she hands him a measuring cup, tapping on the glass at the red mark that indicates a full cup.

“What’s in the oven?” He asks, not looking up at her as he carefully pours the buttermilk. “It smells good.”

“Biscuits,” she tells him. “I was… inspired by Robin’s breakfast.” She grins, watching as Henry’s eyes nearly cross as he tries to measure out exactly enough buttermilk. “But mine aren’t the tubed kind. I made them from scratch.”

“Those are better,” Henry says with a serious nod. “But don’t tell Robin I said that.”

“I won’t… though, I sort of think he’d agree.”

Henry giggles as he sets the butter milk down and reaches for a bowl. “That’s true,” he says with a nod. “It’s pretty cool how much he knows about the woods, though.”  
“It is…”

“He showed us all sorts of plants and bugs and rocks while we were looking for berries.” A smile edges onto Henry’s lips as he looks up at her. “I got to hold a frog!”

“Oh, that’s… cool,” she says in a tentative voice. “Was this… before or after you picked the berries.”

“Before,” he says as a giggle rises into his voice. “But I washed my hands in the river.”

“I don’t imagine there was soap around…”

Henry just shrugs and reaches for the whisk. “Its funny that you and Robin lived so close to each other.”

“It is,” she nods, her shoulders immediately tensing. “Of course, I didn’t know that at the time.”

“So, that means you lived by the woods.”

“Everyone did,” she murmurs, as she reaches for the plate of cooked bacon in front of her and starts to chop. “My parents had a big house that was surrounded by them.”

“Big like this one?”

Regina nods. “Bigger, actually.”

“Wow! That must have been…” He stops and looks up at her. “Was it just you and your parents?”

“For the most part,” she says slowly, trying to decide how much she wants to tell. “We had a cook and a few maids and a butler… or, we did when I was about your age.”

“Did you have friends?”

“No,” she says almost too quickly. “My mother wasn’t very social.”

“Oh, that… must have been really lonely… being in a big house like that, in the middle of nowhere…”

Regina nods, and continues to chop the bacon. “It was… but I did have this one friend.” At that, Henry brightens and she feels her own smile pulling up at the corners of her mouth. “He was stable boy on my parents’ estate. His name was Daniel.”

She watches as Henry’s eyes widen. “That’s my middle name!”

“It is…”

“And you gave me my middle name…” She nods and her heart clenches at the way he smiles at her. “Am I named after him?”

“You are….”

“So, I’m named after your dad and… your friend.”

“Yes…” For a moment, her voice trails off and she watches the way Henry stares expectantly at her, as though waiting for the story she’ll inevitable tell–and for the first time, when talking about her past, she doesn’t feel nervous or unsettled, she’s not worried about what he’ll think or say, and she’s surprised at how comforting it feels to share her memories of Daniel. “I named you Henry after my dad because… despite all of his flaws, he was a good man with a good heart who always believed that… no matter how tough a situation was, if you looked close enough, you could find some good in it.”

“That’s… a really nice thought,” Henry says as he considers it. “I like that.”

“I did, too…” she murmurs, leaving out how she slowly but surely turned away from optimism and hope, losing it little by little until all that was left for her was darkness. “And… I wanted you to grow up to be the same sort of man… someone who believed in the good in people.”

A grin tugs onto Henry’s lips. “What about Daniel? What was he like?”

“He was… my best friend. He was kind and thoughtful, he was fun… he… he made me happy.”

Henry giggles. “Did you… like like him?”

Regina’s eyes widen a little. “I… did… like like him,” she admits, a soft laugh rising into her voice. “And he… like liked me.” She pauses for a moment, remembering how happy Daniel made her feel, how when she was with him she didn’t feel as alone or hopeless–and how she’d felt that exact same feeling the first time she’d held Henry. “We were friends for a long time first, though.”

She takes a breath as she oven timer sounds, and Henry’s attention turns to the biscuits. Reaching for an oven mit, she pulls them out of the oven and she grins as Henry breathes them in. Quickly, she drops them into a little basket and hands them to Henry before turning back to the counter and pouring the dressing into a little jar. She hands it to Henry then drops the tomatoes and bacon into the salad, and she follows him into dining room with thoughts of Daniel and the days they spent together swirling through her head.

_____

Taking a deep breath, Regina lifts the storybook off the shelf in her office. Her fingers trace the gold leaf lettering and her eyes close as she hears the shower turning off, and she braces herself.

She gives Henry a few minutes to settle into his room before walking down the hall and poking in her head, and she forces a smile onto her lips as he looks up at her expectantly, waiting for her with Harry Potter in his lap. Tucking the book underneath her arm, she steps into the room, watching as he tries to get a look at the cover. “So, I was thinking,” she begins, as she sits down on the edge of the bed, “That I could… show you that book I told you about.”

“The one about the place you grew up?”

She nods. “There’s… a story about me and Daniel, and a picnic…” Her stomach flops as Henry’s eyes widen and he sets Harry Potter aside. “We don’t have to if…”

“No,” he cuts in. “I want to hear the story.”

“You sure?” Henry nods and she takes a breath, pulling open the heavy book to a marked page. She watches as he leans in a little to look at the hand-written calligraphy, and she shifts herself up beside him. “So, when Daniel and I were kids–teenagers, actually–we used to like to go riding in along the woods of my family’s estate and we’d be gone for hours and hours and hours…”

“So you had a picnic?”

“After we got smart and realized we needed to bring food with us, yes,” she says softly, shaking her head at the memory. “But, of course, that was much more complicated than it sounds.”

“Why?”

“Well, my mother didn’t like the idea of me being friends with him…”

“She doesn’t sound like a very nice person,” Henry says, turning his eyes up to meet hers. “Sorry, if that was rude…”

“It’s not rude,” she’s quick to say. “She wasn’t a nice person, and she knew it.”

Henry nods as she opens the book–and for a moment, he seems lost in his head, and wonders what he’s thinking about. Taking a breath, she stares down at the picture of herself wearing a periwinkle dress–her favorite only because her mother hate it–with her feet curled beneath her. Daniel was lying stretched out on stomach and a plate a bread and a jar of jam sat between them. Rocinante was grazing just beyond them, and everything about the image was so innocent and quaint.

“That’s you,” Henry murmurs as he leans in for a better look. “That drawing is so… _good_.” He looks up at her and her stomach clenches. “It looks just like you!”

“Well… a younger me,” she says, earning a slight chuckle from Henry.

“Is this a true story?”

“It is…”

“That’s so cool,” Henry says as he rests his head on his shoulder. “Why did… whoever wrote this…um… write them?” He laughs a little at his question as he cuddles closer. “I just mean… why did he pick these stories?”

“I… don’t know, actually,” she confess. “I don’t even know where this book came from.”

“Maybe your mom had it…”

“Maybe,” she murmurs softly, deciding that was as good a reason as any other, as she begins the story…

The story started with her skipping a dance lesson–something she tells him she did frequently as a girl. Her mother banished her to her room, locking her in and refusing her dinner–and she can’t help but notice the way Henry squirms beside her as she reads it and she wonders if she’s struck a cord. She offers to stop, but he urges her on, insisting he wants to hear the whole story, and she takes a breath, pushing away her own discomfort as she continues. Henry giggles as reads the part about her knotting bedsheets together together to sneak out of the high window–and she groans at the part where she fell at the final few feet before reading the ground. She reads about how she’d run to the stables as fast as she could, her heart racing as she feared catching the eye of a servant and she read about the sheer jubilation she felt when she reached the stables, presumably unnoticed.

She skipped the line about how Daniel had kissed her–and Henry, of course, pointed that out with a giggle. With a sigh, she continues on, reading about the picnic lunch Daniel packed for them and how he’d helped her onto Rocinante–and then just as she read a bit about them riding out of the stable together, Henry gasped.

“Who is that?”

“What?” She asks, blinking down at the page. “Who is… who?”

“Him,” Henry says, pointing to a man in the background pruning roses. “Who is that?”

“I…” She narrows her eyes and leans in. “I think that was my family’s gardener.”

“He looks familiar,” Henry murmurs as he leans in a little closer. “That’s Mr. Zinnia.”

Regina blinks. “You… know Mr. Zinnia.”

“Yeah, the florist!” Henry says with a nod. “Robin took me and Roland there last week when you were at the Town Hall meeting to…” He stops and bites down on his lip. “To look at stuff.”

Regina’s brow arches. “To look at stuff.” Henry nods and looks away from her, still chewing on his lip. “Seems like an odd place for three men…”

“I told him I wouldn’t tell you.”

Her eyes narrow and a smile pulls onto her lips. “Tell me what?”

“About the surprise.”

“There’s a surprise,” she says very matter of factly as she looks down at Henry. “A surprise you’re not allowed to tell me about.”

“Exactly.”

“So, you won’t tell me.”

Henry shakes his head. “But I can tell you that Mr. Zinnia didn’t have whatever Robin was looking for, so he said he’d have to go to plan B.” Henry blinks. “But he didn’t tell us what that meant.”

“Oh…”

“But he’s planning something,” Henry says, giggling softly as he looks back down at the page. “It’s so funny that Mr. Zinnia is in the book,” he says placing his finger on the page. “He looks _exactly_  the same.”

Regina blinks, suddenly pulled out of her thoughts by the realization that Henry had identified a Storybrooke resident in the book, and was one step closer to understanding the world she’d brought him into, that if he continued looking through the book, he’d find other people he’d seen around town, some that he knew, and eventually, he’d see who she’d become.

A yawn escapes him and she closes the book, ignoring the knot that was forming in her stomach as she leaned into kiss him goodnight, and hoping this wasn’t all a mistake.

_____

She wakes up with a start, her stomach churning and her heart racing. Taking a breath, she swallows hard and listens–listening for a sound she’s not entirely sure she’ll hear again, a sound she’s not entirely sure wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

And just as she was nearly convinced it was all a part of a dream or maybe a distant memory that had crept out into her subconscious, she heard it again.

 _Henry_.

Tossing back the covers, she gets out of bed, padding quickly down the hallway to Henry’s room. She opens the door and he gasps a little, looking up at her with wide and terrified eyes–and her heartbreaks.

“Henry,” she whispers as she takes a step into the room, and she watches as his hands clutch the blanket, gripping tightly to the fabric. She looks from his hands to his face, and for a brief moment, it seems like he’s afraid of her–and then, he softens, but only a bit. “Henry, what’s the matter?”

“N-nothing,” he says, watching as she steps closer.

“It’s not nothing,” she says gently as she takes a tentative step in, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “You’re crying.”

“I… I just… I had a bad dream.”

His breath catches as he hiccups and she takes another step in, watching the way eyes her, almost skeptically, as she comes closer. Slowly she sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches for the lamp, flicking on a brighter light. “It was just a dream, Henry,” she murmurs as she looks into his eyes. “Just a dream, even if it was  bad one.”

He nods and his lips part, as though he were about to say something, but no words come.

“Can I… hold you?” Henry nods as she shifts closer and as her arms wrap around him, she can feel him relaxing and she lets out a sigh of relief.  She holds him for as long as he’ll allow, and after a few minutes, he pulls back and offers her a sheepish grin. “Why don’t we go downstairs for a little bit and have some milk?”

Henry nods as stands, offering him her hand and grinning as his fingers fold around hers. He lets her lead him down the stairs and he climbs up onto a stool at the counter, watching as she warms the honeyed milk. He doesn’t say anything, he just watches and every now and then, she offers him a little smile that makes him grin. She pour two cups of milk and sits beside him, but each and every time she asks if he wants to talk about the nightmare, he shakes his head.

She doesn’t push it, but each time he refuses to open up, the knot in her stomach tightens and she wonders if his silence isn’t an attempt to shield her.

“Do you want to sleep in my room?” She asks gently as he takes the sip of his milk.

“No,” he murmurs. “I should be okay in my room.”

“You sure?”

Henry nods, then bites down on his lip. “Can you lay with me until I fall asleep again?”

A soft grin tugs onto her lips and she leans in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Of course.”

Sliding down from her stool, she helps Henry off of his, and together, they walk back upstairs. She tucks him in, then slides into bed beside him, resting her head atop his as she holds him. It takes only a few minutes for him to fall asleep; and for awhile, she just lays there and listens to him breathe, and she can’t help but think about that terrified look in his eyes when she first entered the room.

Finally, after she’s sure that he’s asleep, she gently gets out of the bed and returns to her own room. She lays there in the dark for a few minutes, her head spinning as the knot in her stomach once again tightens and she wonders if showing Henry the storybook was a bad idea, and she wonders if it’s not too late to take Robin up on his offer and start a new life somewhere else, somewhere that her past couldn’t follow her.

Rolling onto her side, she reaches for her phone. She types out a quick text asking Robin if he can meet for breakfast, and before she can even return the phone to it’s place on her nightstand, the screen illuminates and rumbles with a soft buzz. A lopsided grin tugs onto her lips as she sees Robin’s name and it buzzes once more before she accepts the call.

“What’s the matter?” He asks almost immediately.

“Oh, nothing,” she murmurs as she pulls herself up into a sitting position.

“Nothing’s wrong, but it’s two in the morning and you’re texting me about breakfast,” he says in a skeptical voice. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“Henry had a nightmare,” she says with a soft sigh. “And… I just… I’m a little shaken.”

“What was it about?”

“That’s just it… he wouldn’t say.” Her breath catches in her chest and her eyes press shut. “He… he seemed like he was… afraid of me.”

“That’s ridiculous. He adores you.”

“It didn’t last long…”

“Regina, he’s not afraid of you.”

“Maybe not consciously…”

“Regina…”

“I showed him the book,” she interjects, her voice rising over his. “I showed him a story about me and Daniel, and he noticed someone who looked familiar and…”

“Regina,” Robin cuts in. “Henry is not afraid of you.”

“What if he… somehow _knows_.”

“That you’re…”

“…the Evil Queen.”

“First of all, there’s no way he knows unless you told him. Even if the curse suddenly broke, he wouldn’t know it. It’s not like he’d get a rush of memories of you as… some villain.” He sighs and she nods, knowing that he’s right, but still unable to shake the feeling that something had changed. “And even if he did know, that’s not who you are to him.”

“I know, it’s just… you didn’t see it. You didn’t see the way he looked at me.”

“Maybe he was still half asleep, maybe he thought you were someone else…”

“Maybe…”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No,” she lies. “That’s… not necessary.” Taking a breath, she lays back. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine…”

“So, tomorrow… breakfast?”

“Of course.”

“Go back to sleep…”

“Regina…”

“Robin, I’m fine. I’m just… over tired and over thinking things and…” Her voice trails off. “Thank you for calling.”

“My offer still stands.”

“I know, and I love you for it,” she says in a sincere voice. “Good night…”

“Goodnight.”

Dropping the phone down onto the bed, she closes her eyes and takes a breath, telling herself again and again that Robin is probably right, telling herself that she’s overly tired and reading too far into things, telling herself she didn’t see what she actually saw–and somewhere in the loop of reassuring half-truths, she finally dozes off.

_____

Sleep doesn’t hast for very long and before the sun is even up, she finds herself wandering down to the kitchen in search of coffee. When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she can hear rustling in the kitchen, and her immediate thought is Henry. Picking up her pace, she turns into the kitchen and her brow immediately furrows at the sight of Robin, standing at the counter, unpacking a paper bag.

“Did I wake you?” He asks, turning to her with wide eyes.

“Um, no… I… just woke up on my own…” she murmurs, stepping into the kitchen. “I… why are you here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh. Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have text…”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, cutting in. “I’m glad you texted me and I’m glad I called and got to talk to you…” He sighs, “I just wish I’d come over sooner rather than later.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I know…”

“I told you, I’m fine…”

Robin nods. “You were lying.” Regina feels her cheeks flush as her eyes fall away from his, and she shakes her head. “And I needed to see for myself that you were okay.”

“I’m… okay,” she says as she comes to lean against the counter. “And… I’m glad that you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“But you shouldn’t be here. You should be with your son.”

“Roland is fine,” Robin says easily. “John is watching him with means he’ll either get left over pizza or nachos for breakfast, which means he’ll be a happy boy in a few hours.”

A grin pulls onto her lips. “Still, you shouldn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn and leave your child because your girlfriend is having a breakdown over…”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he cuts, taking a step toward her. “You and Henry are my family, too. I love you and love your son, and right now, this is where I need to be.” Reaching for her hand, he gives it a tight squeeze. “You don’t have to suffer through everything alone, Regina. You can… fall back on me, if you need to. You’re not bothering me or taking me away from something more important…” His voice trails off as his thumb rubs against the back of her wrist. “If you need me, I’ll be here… and right now, I think you need me.”

Nodding, a grin tugs onto her lips. Taking a step in, she wraps her arms around his neck and lets him hold her. His arms fold around her and he pulls her closer and for just a moment, she lets herself relax and be comforted.

“Do you want to go back upstairs,” he asks in a hushed whisper. “Maybe try to get a little sleep…”

“Believe it or not, I actually got some sleep.”

His brow arches, “More than two hours?”

“No…”

“Then I’m afraid it doesn’t count,” he says, taking a step back and letting his hands fall down her arms. “So, how about this… how about you have a little something to eat and…”

Her brow creases as she looks past him, suddenly remembering the brown paper bag stamped with Granny’s logo that he’d been rummaging through when she’d come downstairs and found him. “Is that… fresh?”

“It is.”

“But… Granny’s isn’t open yet,” she murmurs as she looks back at him, her eyes suddenly widen. “Robin, you didn’t…”

He blinks. “Her hours are, on occasion, inconvenient.”

“You broke into Granny’s to steal a danish and some tea?”

“It’s an apple fritter and some tea, actually,” he says simply as if the details are what matters. “And I left the proper amount _plus_  a tip.” He shrugs his shoulders dismissively. “If she doesn’t want people coming in and helping themselves as needed, she shouldn’t leave her key in such an obvious place.”

“And where was this _obvious_  place?”

“In a loose brick at the back of the inn.”

Regina’s eyes roll. “How much a of tip did you leave?”

“Almost double the price of the tea and fritter.” He grins. “You act like this is the first time…”

With a sigh, she shakes her head. “What kind of tea is it.”

“Lavender and chamomile.”

“So, bathwater…”

“Bathwater that will help you get some rest.” Smiling gently, he reaches behind him, grabbing the tea and paper covered fritter. “I picked out the one with the most apple chunks.”

“That was… very thoughtful,” she says as she takes the fritter, intentionally ignoring the tea. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he says, watching as she tears off a piece of the fritter and bites into it. “And I mean that. _Anytime_.” Pulling herself up onto one of the stools, she tears off another piece of the fritter, rolling her eyes as Robin pushes the tea toward her. “So, tell me… what happened exactly.”

“I… was talking to him while we were making dinner and we started talking about Daniel and… what it was like for me growing up and… I decided to show him the book.” Robin’s brow arches. “I started with an easy story… one where I snuck out of my bedroom and…”

“…went on a picnic with Daniel,” Robin finishes with a nod. “That’s a sweet one.”

“Yeah, it’s a sweet memory…”

“So, you showed him the book…”

“And immediately, he noticed how real the illustrations looked and… then all of the sudden, he noticed someone.” Her eyes shift up as she tears off another piece of the fritter. “My family’s gardener… who… I didn’t even realize was a florist here in Storybrooke.” She shakes her head. “But Henry noticed…”

“Mr. Zinnia.”

“Yeah…”

“He’s… a nice guy,” Robin says with a shrug. “I don’t think you have to worry about…”

“I’m not worried about the florist,” Regina says in flat voice. “It’s just… if he noticed him, who else will he notice?”

“Well… isn’t that kind of… the point of showing him the book?”

“Yeah,” Regina says with a sigh. “I just…” Her voice trails off and she shrugs her shoulders, looking up at him almost helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“You’re conflicted,” Robin supplies. “This isn’t easy…”

“No, it’s not,” she replies, shaking her head as she finally reaches for the tea. “As much as I want the curse to break–as much as I _need_  it to break for Henry’s sake–I’m terrified.”

“Henry loves you, Regina. It might be… shocking and tough to process, but at the end of the day, you’re still the woman who saved him, the woman who took him in and loved him. You’re still his mom.”

“What if… he can’t trust me.” She takes a breath and catches in her throat as warm tears well in her eyes. “Robin, what if… he looks at everything I’ve done and can’t…”

“That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that,” she murmurs as she takes a long sip of the tea.

Robin sighs, watching as she eats the last of the fritter. “Come on, let’s go back upstairs…”

“I won’t sleep.”

“But at least you’ll be resting.” He grins as she nods in concession. “Take the tea.”

Letting out a breath, she reaches for the tea and slides of the stool. Robin’s arm forms around her waist as she start toward the stairs–and then, an envelope on the counter catches her eye. “What’s that?” She asks, suddenly stopping as she looks to Robin. “That… wasn’t there when I went to bed.”

“Oh, it was stuck in the side of your mailbox,” Robin says easily. “You must have missed it.”

“It was empty. I looked,” she murmurs, taking a step away from him and toward the counter. “I would have noticed.” Setting down the tea, she picks it up and whens he opens the flap, her stomach drops. Letting out a shaky breath, she looks to Robin with wide eyes. “This is… just like the last one I got… the one about my mother being disappointed.”

Robin’s brows arch. “What does it say?”

Swallowing hard, she pulls the card from the envelope with trembling hands. “It says…” Her voice trails off and her eyes narrow, not quite understanding, she holds it out for him to read.

For a moment, he just stares at it, then slowly, he takes it from her. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she nervously watches as he reads…

_Sorry we missed you, but worry not, we’ll be back to claim what’s ours._

His eyes scan the note a second time before he finally looks back to her. “I don’t… understand.“

“I…” Her stomach drops, and can’t push out the rest of her words. Instead, all she can think of are those damn letters–those taunting letters she’d assumed would be untraceable, those letters that she’d sent in impulsive moments of anger. Again and again, she tells herself it’s impossible–it can’t be them–but it’s the only thing that makes sense to her. A feeling of dread washes over her at realization of what this could mean, and she can’t help but feel, as always, she’s brought it on herself.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry discover that Regina is the Evil Queen.

 

He’s not sure when they fell asleep, only that they did. **  
**

It had taken hours to calm her down, but finally, her exhaustion won and she fell asleep.

They’d been on the couch in her living room with kettle of tea sitting just out of reach on the coffee table and a knit blanket around them--and he told her again and again that there was no way that Henry’s foster parents could be in Storybrooke. He didn’t actually know that, and he assumed they find out soon enough, but seemed the most logical answer as she chided herself again and again for the letters she’d sent them, creating a trail directly to Henry.

He reminded her of the magical barrier that separated Storybrooke from rest of the world and how difficult it’d been for her to find a way for him and Roland to cross it, and when she pointed out the obvious--that Henry’s foster parents weren’t from the real world, but from the same fairytale land they were from--a smile twisted onto his lips and he reminded her that she was a the great and terrible Evil Queen and a force to be reckoned with.

She’d nodded as her head fell to his shoulder and he tugged the blanket up higher, holding her a little closer as he pressed a kiss into her hair, promising they’d figure it all out in the morning and that with sleep, everything would be clearer.

Again, he had no idea if that were true, he had no idea what morning would bring, but it seemed to calm her and finally, she’d fallen asleep.

He’d held her for awhile before carefully lifting her up and carrying her up to her room where they could both be more comfortable. He’d settled her first then turned off the light, crawling into bed beside and immediately smiling as she rolled closer to him, resting her head on his chest as he whispered another unkeepable promise about what the morning would bring--and then finally, his own eyes sank shut.

“Mom?” Henry’s voice calls quietly as he pushes open the bedroom door after what seemed like only a few minutes. “Are you awake?”

Robin’s heavy eyes flutter open, and momentarily, he peers down at Regina, still asleep on his chest and completely unaware of Henry’s question. “Henry, you okay?”

“Robin?” He asks, taking a few steps into the room as his voice piques with confusion. “When did you get here?”

“Umm,” he breathes out, blinking his eyes a few times as he tries to process the question. “Last night. It was… pretty late. You’d already gone to bed.”

“Is Roland here?”

“No, just me.”

“Oh,” Henry murmurs, again taking a step forward. “Is… is my mom okay?”

“Yeah,” he’s quick to say, “She’s fine. She’s… right here, sleeping.” Yawning, he folds back the covers. “Wanna get in with us? There’s plenty of room…”

“No,” Henry says in a quiet voice. “I was just going to see if she wanted to read with me.” Blinking a few times, he’s suddenly aware that the room isn’t as dark as it should be, that the sky has taken on a pink-ish hue indicating that the sun’s about to come up. “I’ll just go read in my room for a little bit before school.”

Taking a breath, Robin sighs a little as he gently shifts away from Regina. “You know, I could read with you and we could make breakfast. Or you could read and I could cook...” He tosses his legs over the edge of the bed and roughly runs his hands over his face. “I bet I could make a killer omelette with that fancy cheese your mom buys.”

At that, Henry giggles. “That sounds good… as long as you don’t make it about math.” Henry grins. “It’s too early for that.”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” he says, rising to his feet and reaching for Henry’s hand. “So, tell me, what are we going to read? Harry Potter?” He asks, looking down at him. “You know I’m behind…”

“No, I was thinking about reading this book mom just gave me yesterday,” Henry says. “It’s about the place she used to live.”

“Ahh…”

“It’s in my room,” Henry tells him. “I’ll go get it.”

A nervous grin twists onto Robin’s lips. “And I’ll go raid the fridge.”

Henry nods and breaks free from his hold, and he takes a deep breath as he heads down the stairs. He knows that book inside and out, probably better than Regina does, but the thought of Henry flipping through it, reading stories about his mother’s past makes him uneasy. At some point, he’ll recognize her as the Evil Queen and at some point, he’ll realize the pain she caused others--others who aren’t merely characters in a book, but people that he knows and cares for. And some point, he’ll have questions.

It’s not necessarily that he couldn’t answer them--if anyone’s learned to come to terms with Regina’s story, it’s him. He won’t make excuses for her, but he also won’t allow for assumptions. Regina’s past is difficult to read, knowing what she endured, knowing what she became--and he can’t imagine taking all of that in as an eight-year old, without anyone to to guide him through.

Of course, he could do it, but he’s not sure it’s his place. After all, no matter how he feels about Regina or how he feels about Henry, Henry isn’t his son and there are boundaries--boundaries that need to be respected. However, knowing something and understanding it were two separate things, and he’s not entirely sure where the boundaries lie--and he’s even less sure which he’s allowed to push and which he needs to mind carefully. It occurs to him that he should wake Regina up--that she should know Henry is exploring the book--but he can’t bear to turn around and wake her. The night before was not an isolated incident and he knows that the more she’s worried about breaking the curse and what it’ll all mean for them, she’s gotten less and less sleep. It’s a detail she hides well--applying extra concealer and never letting anyone see her yawn, only closing letting her eyes close when she was completely alone, and even then, it could never be for more than a few minutes.

Reaching the kitchen, he flicks on the light and moves quickly to the refrigerator. He grabs the eggs and a couple of other ingredients, then kicks the door shut and turns to the counter. Surveying what he grabbed, he looks up and watches as Henry joins him, hoisting the heavy leather-bound book onto the counter before climbing up onto his favorite stool--and Robin feels a soft grin edging onto his lips, unable not to notice how comfortable Henry is in Regina’s house. He reaches for an apple in the fruit bowl and bites into it, batting his hand over the back of his mouth and Robin feels a tightness in his chest--and he can’t help but notice how far Henry’s come in such a short time.

“You know what’s funny?” Henry asks, looking up at him as his fingers trace the gold-leaf lettering on the front of the book. “

Robin’s eyes move to the book, noticing that it’s still not opened. “What’s that?”

“My mom said this book is about the place she grew up,” he says, “But everyone clothes look like they were from a hundred years ago.”

“That’s… interesting,” Robin says, trying to keep his voice even. “Why do you think that is?”

He reaches for a tomato as Henry considers it. “Well,” he begins slowly, “I think… the stories are… based off of real ones.” He nods, liking his version of things. “Like in movies, a director or whoever picks an actor to play a part and they choose the one who best fits it.” He shrugs and looks up. “It’s kind of like that, but… a little different.”

Nodding, Robin continues to slice to tomatoes. “You should, uh, open to page sixteen.”

Henry offers him a skeptical glare. “Sixteen,” he repeats. “Is this some math thing?”

“No,” he replies, laughing gently. “I just… picked a number.” Looking up, he takes a breath and reminds himself to keep his hand steady. “What story is on that page?”

Henry opens the book carefully to the page and a warm grin edges onto his lips. “It’s my mom,” he says, his smile brightening as he looks up. “And her horse.”

Robin nods as Henry starts the story--reading about the day Regina saved Snow White from falling off her horse. He grins as Henry’s voice piques as if reading a great adventure story and he smile up him, his eyes brimming with pride as he realizes that his mother was a hero--a hero not just to him.

Robin can’t help but laugh as Henry’s face scrunches as he realizes the girl’s name was actually Snow White, and he shakes his head, muttering something about having crazy parents.

Henry traces his fingers over Regina’s braid as if to remember the details, then he starts to turn the page--and Robin finds himself holding his breath.

“Hey…” Regina’s voice calls as she leans against frame of the door, her eyes fixed on Henry. “You’re up early.”

Henry nods. “I couldn’t sleep anymore.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I get it.” Robin watches as she takes a deep breath and pushes herself forward, eyes still on Henry. “Did you get any sleep?”

Henry nods. “A little.”

“Maybe,” she begins as she leans against the edge of the counter, reaching out tentatively and pushing her fingers through his hair. “You should stay home from school today… get some sleep or at least, some rest.”

“But we’re making balloons that you can eat in science today.”

Regina blinks and Robin can’t help the chuckle that escapes him as he chops a few sprigs of basil. “You… doing what?”

“Balloons, in science” Henry says simply. “Then we get to eat them.”

“Oh…”

Henry giggles. “They’re made out of… um… well, I don’t actually know, but it’s stuff you can eat.”

“That’s… interesting,” Regina says, her eyes shifting momentarily to Robin. “Um, what time is science class?”

“After lunch.”

“Okay,” she says, taking a breath. “How about you go in for a half day? I could drop you off after lunch.”

Robin watches as Henry considers it, watching the way Regina’s fingers stroke his hair. “Okay,” he murmurs. “That works.”

“Good…”

“Mom,” Henry says, his voice starting almost as soon as hers stops. “I think I should go see Archie today.” Henry looks down at the book. “I think I should try to go before school.”

“Yeah… okay,” Regina says, not missing a beat as Robin looks between them. “I’ll call after breakfast.”

“Thanks…”

Regina takes a breath, and Robin can see her struggling as her eyes shift from Henry to the book. “Is this about… last night? You looked… so afraid when I came into your room.” Henry nods. “Do you… want to talk to me about it? At all?” It’s almost heartbreaking to watch her eyes plead, begging for him to open and begging for him to confirm what’s obvious to the rest of the world--that he loves her, despite whatever she thinks, he knows she would never intentionally hurt him. “You don’t have to…”

Henry takes a breath. “I just… I had a nightmare and…” Henry lets out a shaky voice as Robin cracks the eggs into a bowl, wondering if he should excuse himself and give them their space. But Henry continues, seemingly unbothered by his presence. “It felt so real.” His eyes are teary as he looks to Regina. “ _They_ found me and they took me back and…” His voice catches his throat. “They said they were taking me somewhere you’d never find me.”

“Oh, Henry,” Regina breathes out, her arms folding around him as she presses a kiss to the top of his hair, her eyes shifting to where Robin stands, whisking the eggs. His eyes meet hers, and he knows exactly what she’s thinking, exactly what she’s fearing and with everything that he is, he hopes they’re wrong and Henry’s foster parents aren’t in Storybrooke, if only so that Henry’s fears never stood a chance at being realized. “Come on,” Regina breathes out, giving his shoulders another squeeze as she presses a kiss to his hair. “Let’s go call Archie, then we’ll see if we can get a little sleep.”

Henry nods and slides off of the stool, taking her hand. “But, Robin’s making breakfast…”

“Oh! That’s right,” Regina says, her eyes growing wide as she grimaces an apology. “I… somehow forgot.”

“That’s perfectly alright,” he tells her offering her a smile and a wink he hopes she’ll find reassuring. “I’m quite a fan of breakfast in bed.” Again, he offers them both a smile. “I’ll bring a tray up when it’s done.”

“Thank you,” Regina murmurs quietly as she takes Henry’s hand and leads him upstairs.

_____

Regina’s head falls to Robin’s shoulder as she takes a breath, staring blankly at the closed door to Archie’s office. She’s tired--exhausted actually--and her stomach is unsettled with worry. And as tempting as it is to close her eyes, she can’t because everytime she does, another worst case scenario presents itself in life-like detail. Each time it’s something different, but each time it’s something terrifying--from Henry’s foster parents being in Storybrooke and taking him away to Henry realizing she’s the Evil Queen and looking at her with eyes full of betrayal and hurt.

“I thought it was about me,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible as she continues to stare at the door.

“Hmm?”

“Last night,” she says with a sigh. “Henry had a nightmare and didn’t want to talk about it, and I thought it was about me. I thought he figured something out and…” She sighs again and this time her eyes fill with tears. “I was relieved when it wasn’t that. I was relieved that the nightmare was about his foster parents.”

“Of course you were.”

“Robin, I was relieved that… he was…”

“Hey,” he cuts in, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her hair. “You weren’t relieved that he had a nightmare. You weren’t relieved that he woke up upset. You were just relieved that it wasn’t about you. That… is not a bad thing.”

For a moment, she doesn't say anything. Instead, she continues to stare forward at Archie’s door, thinking of all of the choices she’d made that led them to this very moment. “You can’t blame the things they did on yourself. It’s not your fault he’s afraid of them.”

“It’s my fault he even knows them.”

“That’s not fair,” Robin’s quick to say. “You can’t keep beating yourself up for what you didn't know would happen. You thought you were giving him a better life, you couldn’t have known how things would end up.”

She nods in concession. It’s not that she believes him, but she doesn’t have the energy for the fight. “I shouldn’t have written those letters,” she says instead. “I should have known that would blow up in my face.”

“Regina…”

“I just wanted them to feel a little bit of what he felt--that fear he felt.”

“I know.”

“And look where it got me.”

Robin sighs as he stretches his arm around her shoulder. “Just because they're here doesn’t mean… anything, really, other than that they’re from the same world we’re from.” He turns his head and presses a light kiss to the top of her head. “They can’t have magic--not here--and they have no legal claim to him. He’s safe with you.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “That’s true.” And then her eyes close. “Robin, what if… what I… can’t control myself.” She lifts her head from his shoulder and finally turns to look at him. “I couldn’t  _not_ send those letters. There was… this pull to do it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it until it was done, and then… I’d write another, even though I told myself I wouldn’t.” She can feel jaw starting to tremble as tears well in her eyes. “What if I run into them and… I can’t not…”

“Don’t go there.”

“It’s not like I have… a history of making level-headed choices when I feel threatened.”

“Why don’t you… worry about that when the time comes, hm?” He suggests, his voice suddenly sounding unsure, like this wasn’t something he hadn’t thought about. “Let’s just take this one thing at a time.”

“I’d lose him. I’d lose Henry.”

“You can never lose Henry,” Robin counters. “Not really. He loves you too much to let anything come between you for very long. He might be upset, but he’s never going to stop loving you .”

Before she can respond, the door opens and Archie leads Henry out to her. He grins a little as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and Archie offers her that quick  _we’ll chat about this tomorrow_  look that he offers after each of Henry’s sessions. She smiles a little has Robin scoops Henry up onto his shoulder and Henry laughs out, gingerly asking if they can have Granny’s for lunch before he goes to school. She can’t help but laugh and nod when both Robin and Henry look to her with wide, expectant eyes, and by the time they reach Granny’s, she’s grateful for the padded booths and bottomless cups of caffeine.

Every time the diner’s door opens, she feels herself flinch, her heart racing as her eyes shift to the door, fully expecting an unfamiliar couple to enter and for Henry’s bubble of safety to shatter.

And though it doesn’t happen, she still can’t relax. Nonetheless, they walk Henry to school and get him checked in, and all the while sinking feeling in her stomach remains, telling her that this is a bad idea and something is bound to go wrong.

“Let me take you home,” Robin murmurs as they watch Henry walk gingerly toward Mary Margaret Blanchard’s classroom. “You need to get some…”

“What I  _need_ is to figure out…”

“No,” he cuts in as his arm slides around his waist as they walk out of the school office. “You need to get some sleep.” She sighs as her eyes shift to his, wanting to protest but unable to find the words. “When I was the last time you got more than a couple of hours...uninterrupted?”

Regina shrugs with indifference. “That doesn’t mat---”

“It matters, Regina,” he says, his voice rising over hers as they walk down the front steps of the elementary school. “You matter, and you’re not going to do anyone any good--especially not to Henry--if you don’t take care of yourself.”

With a sigh, her head falls against his arm as they walk slowly toward Main Street. She doesn't say anything and neither does he, and she knows this is an argument that she won’t win. She simply doesn’t have the energy--and deep down, she knows that he’s right. But it’s not like any of this is a choice…

When they finally reach the house, she fumbles with her keys, her eyes wandering to the mailbox as a feeling of dread washes over her. Robin’s hand finds the small of her back as she draws in a breath, holding it in her lungs as she pushes her hand into the box and breathes out a sigh of relief when she finds it empty. Robin pushes her forward, closing the door behind them as she drops down her purse, and then, he reaches for her hand.

“Let’s go upstairs…”

“I can’t sleep, Robin. It’s just not… possible right now.” She shrugs. “I’ll get used to it. I always do.”

Robin sighs and reaches into his pocket. “This might help,” he says, holding out a little pink tablet. “You don’t have to take the whole thing, but it’ll knock you out for awhile.”

“Aren’t those things designed for a full eight hours?”

Robin chuckles a little as he nods. “Are you suggesting that you couldn’t use a full eight hours of sleep?”

“No, it just…” She sighs. “School gets out at three and…”

“I can pick up Henry. I have to pick up Roland, anyway. We’ll stay for tutoring, even though today isn’t one of my days, then we’ll go to the grocery store and come back here for dinner and homework.” He grins and again, he reaches for her hand. “That’s… what?... six hours or so? That’s close to eight.”

Regina nods as her eyes shift from Robin to the tablet--and she thinks about how nice it would be to  _stop_ for a little while--to stop thinking and feeling and worrying. “But, what about…”

“I can handle it,” Robin interjects softly. “Whatever happens, I’ll handle it.”

She feels a grin tug up at one corner of her mouth. “Will you lay with me until I fall asleep?”

“You just try and stop me,” he replies easily, laughing softly as her fingers curl around his as she leads him up the stairs.

_____

When she wakes up, she can hear Robin and the boys downstairs, and a smile pulls onto her lips when she hears Henry burst out laughing as the water turns on.

Getting out of bed, she heads downstairs, her brow arching as she looks around the kitchen, finding it to be a complete mess. Henry is sitting at the counter, his elbows resting on the edge and his hands holding up his chin as he watches Robin attempting to spot clean Roland’s shirt as Roland squirms, obviously not happy to be pinned against the sink.

“We had a pesto accident,” Robin says, sheepishly as he notices her presence.

“We made fancy pasta,” Roland adds. “The noodles are bow ties!”

“And someone,” Henry says, grinning as his eyes shift from her to Robin, “Forgot to put the little top thingy on the food processor.”

She laughs, shaking her head as she joins Henry at the counter. Reaching out, she plucks two of the bow ties from the bowl, not quite sure if she woke up just in time for dinner or if she’s just missed it. But nonetheless, her stomach is rumbling and the pasta--despite the mess--smell incredible.

“How was school?” She asks, looking over at Henry. “Did you get to make the…” Her voice halts as she notices the storybook in front of Henry. “Did you get to make the balloons?” She asks, clearing her throat as she tries to keep her eyes on him and not the book.

“Yeah,” he says with an easy nod as he giggles. “They tasted terrible.”

“Oh, well that’s… disappointing.”

Henry shrugs his shoulders. “It was still cool to make them and I bet if we added flavoring somehow, they’d taste better.”

Her brow creases. “Something tells me you’ve already decided that this is something we’ll do this weekend.”

Henry nods and grins. “Robin already bought us candy flavoring at the store. We have cotton candy and vanilla.”

“No apple?”

“They didn’t have it. We looked.”

“Too bad…” she murmurs as Henry’s fingers trail along the edge of the book as if itching to open it. “So, um, have you done anymore reading?”

Her breath catches as he nods. “I read a story about you.”

“Oh?” She asks, her heart beating a little faster as her eyes shift between Robin and Henry. “Which one?”

“You know,” Robin begins as he lifts Roland from the counter and sets him down. “I’m not having much luck with this stain. I think I’m going to take this to the laundry room.” She nods, unable to stop herself from grinning as Roland starts to unbutton his shirt, his eyes widen with dread as Robin tugs on his hand and pulls him toward the laundry room. The little boy lets out a frustrated whine as Robin tugs a bit harder, pulling him out of the kitchen and giving her and Henry a little privacy.

“So,” she begins again. “Which story did you read?”

“The one where you saved Snow White from getting trampled by her horse,” he says tugging a the ribbon and opening to the page of a teenage version of herself, holding onto the hands of a girl only a handful of years younger. “Mom, was… was her name  _really_ Snow White?”

“It was.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, grimacing as he looks back to the illustration. “That sucks.”

“It does?”

“Yeah,” he nods, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Imagine going to school with a name like  _Snow White_. She was picked on,  _for sure._ ”

“She was… a... sweet girl, I suppose,” Regina says, gritting her teeth and watching as Henry twists the ribbon bookmark around his finger. “Is that all you read?”

“No…”

“Oh?” Again, her heart beats a little faster as her mouth goes dry. “Um, what else did you read?”

She watches as Henry takes a breath, collecting his thoughts and chewing at his bottom lip as he stares down at the page. “I… don’t think these stories are  _all_ real,” he says after a moment, taking another breath before looking up at her. “I mean, I think… some of them are and I think they’re  _based off_  of real stories, but… but I don’t think they’re completely real.”

“Oh,” she breathes out. “And why is that?”

“Well,” he says, looking back to the book. “For starters, you’re not that old…”

She can’t help but laugh. “Well, thank you for that…”

“And the clothes look like they’re from, like, a hundred years ago.”

She nods. “Styles change…”

He blinks up at her, his brows arched. “Yeah. Over about a hundred years.”

“Okay, so… what else makes you think they’re not completely real?”

Again, Henry considers it for a moment and she watches as his grip on the bookmark loosens. Her breath catches in her chest as his fingers push at the corner of the page. “Well, there’s… what comes next in the story about you and Snow White,” he says quietly. “The part about your mom… and, um, Daniel.”

“Ah… that.”

“Yeah,” he nods, his eyes widening as he looks up at her. “Mom, did… did your mom… did she really…” His voice trails off and it’s obvious that he doesn’t want to say it, as if saying it will give it some sort of power and make it more real than it is. “I mean, did she...?”

For a moment, she wants to say no. She wants to tell him that the horrible details of her story aren’t really as bad as it seems, that they’re embellished and exaggerated, that she isn’t the person the book says she is--because at her core, she no longer feels like she is. But instead, she nods. “Yes,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible. “She did.”

“B-but…”

“She… didn’t like him and she thought that… I could…”

“That’s  _terrible_.”

She nods as her chest tightens, suddenly thinking of Daniel and how she’d sunk down to into the hay, holding his lifeless body as shock overcame her. She remembers the way she’d momentarily clung to hope as she leaned in kissed him, hoping that wouldn’t be their last and that true love could save him. But it hadn’t--and when she pulled away from him and looked to her mother, who stood there with her shoulders squared and her chin tipped up, her whole body shook with anger, and she could feel herself filling with desperation and hate, paving the way for darkness to replace the light within her.

“But, um… she… she couldn’t have… I mean… not the way the story said,” Henry says, grappling to understand. “I just… it doesn’t make sense.”

“None of it did.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Henry says, his hand pressing to her arm. “I’m really, really, really sorry that happened to you,” he adds, his eyes shifting to the page. “And I’m sorry it happened to him.”

Regina nods, swallowing hard and pushing away the ball of tears that had lodged itself in her throat as she leans in and presses a kiss to Henry’s temple. “I am, too.”

“Is that why you came here? To Storybrooke?”

She nods as she pulls back. “In part.”

“I’d have wanted to get away, too,” he tells her, his eyes meeting hers and making her smile. “And I’m glad you named me after him.”

Regina nods as a sad smile edges onto her lips. “I am, too,” she says as she reaches out and touches the back of her hand to his cheek. “I didn’t think I could love anyone the way I loved him… and then… you came along and proved me wrong.”

Henry grins as his fingers again curl around the ribbon, and she holds her breath. “There’s… um… one more reason I don’t think these stories are totally true,” he says, slowly as he turns the page. “I was, just, um, flipping through the pages, trying to find another story and…” The page falls open and her breath catches in her chest as she stares down at an image of herself in full Evil Queen regalia at Snow White and Prince Charming’s wedding. “First of all,” Henry says, his voice suddenly confident. “That’s Ms. Blanchard,” he says as his eyebrow arches. “And Prince Charming? Really?” He blinks. “Snow White is a super weird name to give your kid, but  _no one_  would name their kids Prince Charming.”

“It’s actually David,” Regina manages to says, swallowing hard as she rubs at her chest “And… Prince Charming was more of a… nickname”

“And, that’s you,” he says, point to the Evil Queen. “But you’re not evil.”

An uneasy grin edges onto her lips. “You don’t think so?”

Henry shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

“Then… why do you think I’m… I’m the Evil Queen in that story?” She asks, her heart beating faster and faster, making it difficult for her to breath. “If I’m not evil, how would I earn a title like “The Evil Queen?””  
  


Her chest tightens as Henry takes a breath, focusing on the image of her for a moment. “Well, you’re mayor and… you have to make tough decisions.” He looks back to her. “You can’t make everyone happy and… it’s a position of power in town, just like the Queen would have been a position of power.” She watches as his brow furrows and he nods, and she wonder if he even believes the story he’s just spun. “It’s… it’s like a metaphor.”

“A metaphor…”

“Yeah,” he says easily. “We learned about the in language arts. They’re… kind of tricky.”

She nods and the knot in her stomach tightens. “Henry, it’s n--”

“Well, I think I got the stain out,” Robin announces as he and Roland come into the room--and Henry giggles as Roland frowns, holding his shirt in his hand as he points to a wet spot on his undershirt. “And I’ve learned it’s a lot easier to get pesto out of fabric when the fabric isn’t on a squirming child.”

Roland’s eyes roll and his head falls as far back as it can as he looks up at Robin. “Can we eat now?” He asks. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” Henry says, hopping off the stool as he closes the storybook. “Let’s set the table,” he says, reaching for a stack of plates as Roland grabs for the silverware, and a moment later they disappear into the dining room, Henry’s thoughts about the Evil Queen all but forgotten.

“And… I completely interrupted something,” Robin says, hesitantly. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“No,” she’s quick to say, “It’s fine. You two couldn’t hide in the laundry room forever and…” She breathes out and her shoulders relax a little as her eyes shift from the book to Robin. “Besides, I… I could use a little distraction.”

“What happened?”  
  


“He… saw me as the Evil Queen and… he doesn’t believe it.”  
  


“He loves you,” Robin says easily, rounding the counter and leaning against it. “He sees the good in you and…” Before he can finish, her cell phone buzzes on the counter opposite from where they are, and her brow creases as she stares at it. “And that’s been happening… all evening.”

“Did you look?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I just assumed it was your secretary,” he tells her as she slides down from the stool. “I’m sure she’s wondering if you’re alive. You haven’t been in since… last…”

“Robin,” she breathes out as she scrolls through the text messages. “Robin, David Nolan is awake.” Taking a  breath, her heart begins to beat faster and faster, and again the knot in her stomach tightens. “I… I have to go.”

“Regina, you just…”

“No,” she cuts in. “I need to go and I need to… see if… if all of this is over.”

Robin nods as he crosses the kitchen and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “Then go,” he says, “Roland and I will stay with Henry. Take your time.” She nods and starts to pull away from, but he still holds on to her hand. “And… whatever happens, just remember that we love you, okay?”

A grin pulls onto her lips as she leans onto the tips of her toes and nods, “I love you, too,” she murmurs as she presses a quick kiss to his lips, then disappears up the stairs to change.

_____

Regina spent the entirety of the drive to the hospital working out her story, something to explain why she was there, something to explain why the mayor Storybrooke would care, much less be notified, that a comatose John Doe with no connection to her was awake.

That part was easy enough--she’d found him on the side of the road, bleeding from the head and unconscious after a one-car accident on rainy night, and with no family or identification on him, she left her own information should there be any change in his condition. She decides that she tried to find out who he was and where he was from, but the license plate had drawn to a dead end and after a months of searching and wondering, she’d given up. She’d placed an ad in papers of neighboring towns as a last-ditch effort, and again nothing had turned up. And though it seemed callous to say, it didn’t seem that anyone was missing him.

Letting out a shallow breath, she hands her key to valet and smoothes her skirt as she walks into the hospital. Her heart beat quickens as she nears the nurses station, nearing Nurse Ratched--a woman who’d once been her Ladies Maid and woman who would surely recognize her. Her mind reeled with possibilities about how David Nolan--how Prince Charming--could have awoken. The most obvious answer would be a True Love’s Kiss, and though she can’t fathom a reason for it have happened, she can’t deny that she hopes it is; and she hopes that if it was powerful was enough to wake David Nolan, lifting the curse from him, it would be powerful enough to break the curse entirely.

And then, it’d all be over.

It would be over, and everyone could move forward.

Still, it’d be hard to explain to Henry, but he wouldn’t have to understand it. Time move forward, and even if he never fully believed in the fairytale land she’d come from or the powerful curse she’d cast to create Storybrooke and set them all on the paths they were currently on, it wouldn’t actually matter. He could go on pretending that the stories in the storybook were only that, half-truths and half-fiction that used the lives of the people he knew and cared for to tell tall tales. Time wouldn’t stop or get caught in the same continual loop, he wouldn’t lose his friends and everything he’d worked to build. This could be it, it could be this simple.

But as she reaches the nurses station and Nurse Ratched turns to face her, blinking up at her with a blank gaze, she had her answer.

Nonetheless, she was directed to the floor where Mary Margaret sat waiting, and she lingered just out of sight as she wondered if she should even  go in.

“Regina,” Mary Margaret murmurs as she rounded the corner, a cup of vending machine coffee in her hands, her voice dripping with surprise. “I’m sorry, I mean Mary Mills… is… is everything alright? Is Henry okay?”

“Yes,” Regina nods. “Henry’s fine, he was just… a little tired this morning, so I decided to let him sleep in.” She shrugs. “I’ll be sure to make sure he makes up everything that he missed from his morning lessons.”

Mary Margaret nods. “I’m glad to hear that he’s okay. He was… quiet this afternoon, but if he was tired, that would explain it.”

Regina nods. “And, please,” she says, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Please call me Regina.” Taking a short breath, she watches as Mary Margaret stands there, her fingers stroking the styrofoam coffee cup, likely waiting for an explanation. “I… heard that your patient had woken up.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret nods “He did.” A soft grin edges onto her lips. “It’s so kind of you to drop in.” She shakes her head. “But… how did you know? He only woke up a few hours ago.”

For a moment, Regina just stares at her, going over the details of the story she created on the way to the hospital; but as she looks into Mary Margaret’s wide, hazel eyes, she only shrugs. “I know everything that goes on in this town,” she says instead, earning a soft chuckle from Mary Margaret. “So, what happened?”

Mary Margaret sighs and reaches for her hand, and Regina fights the urge to pull away as she leads her into the waiting room. “It’s a little embarrassing,” she says, taking a seat near the window and waiting for Regina to sit down beside her. “I came earlier than I usually do for my visit and, I was getting to leave and…” Mary Margaret’s cheeks flush and Regina’s bites down on her lips to avoid groaning at what’s inevitably to come. “I… I kissed him goodnight.”

“You kissed him.”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret says, nodding she looks away and her cheeks flush deeper. “I don’t know why I did it.”

“You… like him.”

“I don’t know him.”

Regina hesitates for a moment, thinking back to their close bond, their ability to find their way back each other no matter the circumstance and their steadfast belief that love could overcome any obstacle. There’d been a time it had infuriated her, made her feel inferior and jealous, showing her all of things she’d never have; but now, it was different. There was a sort of hope in it, a sort of steadiness--and though she’d never admit it to anyone, a sort of inspiration in it.

“Sometimes… that doesn’t matter.” Mary Margaret turns back to her, a slow smile drawing onto her lips. “Sometimes you just… know.”

“I’d have never pegged you as a romantic, Mayor Mil--” Her voice halts. “Regina.”

“I’m not really, I just…” Her eyes close and she takes a breath. “I suppose there’s something to be said for the power of a good love story.”

“Like you have with Robin Locksley?”

Regina’s eyes wide as she turns to face Mary Margaret. “Excuse me?”

“I have to admit, I’m… a little envious,” she confesses. “You seem to have this… picture perfect little life.”

“Me…” Regina blinks. “You think  _my_ life looks perfect?”

Mary Margaret nods. “Robin adores you, the boys are just delightful and…” She shakes her head. “Everyone in town thinks you two are just so good for each other. Before him you always seemed so stern and lonely and before you, he was so lost, like he was looking for a place. He was always on the outside looking in, it seemed.” A soft chuckle rises from Mary Margaret. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this,” she says. “But… it’s true. The two of you seem to have found the real deal and the rest of us can only hope to be as lucky.”

Regina feels her cheeks warm as she looks away and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, not really sure what to do with that information. She’d never considered the way people in Storybrooke viewed her--she just assumed it was all the same, that they viewed her as their mayor the same was they’d viewed her when she was their queen. A tentative smile tugs up at the corner of her mouth, it’d never occurred to her that the most recent changes in her life--Henry, and Robin and Roland--would have softened her image and made them more accepting of her--and she wonders if that’s not something that could work to her advantage.

“So, is… is he talking at all? Did he say anything?”

“Not much,” Mary Margaret says with a shrug of her shoulders. “He thought I was the nurse and… he wanted to know how long he’d been out, what happened to him, that sort of thing.”

“Of course,” Regina murmurs as her phone buzzes in her purse. “I have to assume this is all so… overwhelming for him.”

Mary Margaret nods. “I… don’t even know why I’m still here.”

“Because you care.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“It’s my job to care about this town, and the people in it,” Regina says, offering a soft smile as she reaches into her purse for her phone. “Will you let me know if anything changes?”

Mary Margaret nods and smiles as she stands, offering a tight smile as she walks out of the waiting room. She takes long strides toward the elevator, keeping her head up and her shoulders squared, and then as soon as the elevator doors close, hiding her away from prying eyes, she falls back against the wall and lets out a long sigh, wondering what the hell just happened.

_____

Regina smiles as spots them at a table in the window at Any Given Sundae. Robin is on one side of the table and the boys are at the other, eating from cups much too large for the time of day. Roland is sitting on his feet, his eyes widening as he pulls a miniature peanut butter cup from his ice cream and grins on it, and beside him, Henry adds extra sprinkles

“Hey,” Robin murmurs as he licks the back of his ice cream covered spoon. “How’d it go?”

Taking a breath, she sits beside him. “Okay, um…” Her eyes shift from Robin to the boys, noting how distracted they are by their desserts. “Not at all what I expected.”

“No?” She shakes her head, grinning as he offers her a spoon and pushes the oversized cup of chocolate ice cream toward her. “So, everything is…”

“Status quo.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, and this time it’s his turn to look to the boys. “I’m sorry,” he says as his eyes shift back to her. “That must be frustrating. I know how much you were hoping that… something might change.”

Regina shrugs. “I’m really okay with it,” she says as she dips the spoon into the ice cream. “For now.”

“You seem less stressed about everything than you were this morning.”

“The sleep helped,” she tells him, offering a sheepish grin. “I don’t think I realized just how tired I was and how that was… affecting me.”

They lapse into an easy conversation about Roland’s pesto-stained shirt and how long took to clean up the kitchen. Robin tells her about the little story Henry wrote for language arts while they were in tutoring and how they missed her at dinner, and for that handful of minutes, everything seems to normal--normal and lighthearted--and in those few minutes, it’s so easy to forget.

And then all of the sudden, Henry’s face changes.

Regina watches as his shoulders rise and fall, his breaths labored as he stares out the sidewalk beyond the window. She can see him struggling against his tears, his jaw trembling as he grips the spoon that still stuck in his ice cream.

Even Roland notices it, looking between Henry and the empty sidewalk and then to Robin and Regina. “Who was that?” He asks, in a small voice. “Who were those people?”

Regina’s heart skips a beat as a knot forms in her stomach, tightening as she struggles to breath. “Henry?”

“I… I just thought… it kinda looked like...” He shakes his head. “But it wasn’t,” he’s quick to say as he looks to Regina, his eyes searching hers for answers. “I-it couldn’t have been… right?”

Beneath the table, her hand grips at Robin’s leg. “Who do you think you saw?” She asks, holding her breath as she waits for Henry to reply, despite already knowing his answer.

“M-my foster parents,” he says, his voice barely audible voice. “I... I thought I saw them walking by. They… kinda looked at me and… smiled in a…a weird way.” He looks back to her, his eyes wide. “But, it couldn’t have been, though, right? They’re in New York.”

“People can travel all sorts of ways,” Roland says, chiming in unnecessarily. “They can go by car or boat or train or…”

“Roland,” Robin cuts in. “That’s not very helpful.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, casting his eyes down to his ice cream. “I thought we were talking how someone could get from New York to Storybrooke…”

“It’s fine, sweetie” Regina says, reaching out and squeezing his hand as her eyes shift to Henry. “And you’re right, all of those things are possible.” Henry sighs as he leans back in the chair, tears brimming in his eyes as he focuses on the sidewalk. “But you know what’s  _not possible_ , Henry?” Regina asks, waiting until his eyes meet hers before she continues.  But Henry doesn’t look at her, instead he continues to stare blankly out the window. “Henry…”

“What?” He asks, slowly looking to her and he bats his hand over his eyes. “W-what isn’t possible?”

“It’s impossible for them to hurt you.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes a breath. “If they’re here and if they’re looking for you, even if they find you, they can’t have you. You’re my son now. Your adoption was legal and binding, and they have absolutely no claim to you.” She smiles a little and her grip on Robin’s leg loosens and she’s surprised at the confidence in her voice. “And, I promise you Henry, if they try  _anything_ , and I mean  _anything_ , the Evil Queen is going to come out and make them regret even considering it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. He just stares at her, his face unchanged ands he wonders if that was too much or if went too far--and then a grin tugs onto his lips. “She’d be like a superhero.”

A smile edges onto her lips and she feels her cheeks flush, and she feels something indescribable stirring in her chest as tears brim in her eyes.

“Well, it looks like they’re closing up,” Robin says, his hand rubbing lightly over her back. “So, we should probably go home so that these people can do the same.”

“Did you walk?” Regina asks, blinking away her tears and looking at him. “Because my car’s parked just…”

“We walked,” Robin says with a nod as he rises from the table.

He throws away the remnants of their ice cream and she reaches for Roland’s hand, helping to jump down from the bench. Her other arm folds around Henry’s shoulders, and then the four of them head down Main Street to her car.

The drive home is quick, but long enough for Roland to fall asleep against Henry’s arm, and Regina feels her chest tighten as a smile edges onto her lips as she watches them in the rearview mirror, watching Henry’s eyes grow heavy and his head falls atop Roland’s. When they get back to her house, Robin scoops up both boys from the backseat as she opens the front door, quickly checking the mailbox and breathing a sigh of relief when she finds it empty.

“There’s a plate for you,” Robin murmurs as he closes the door.

“Oh, good,” she breathes out. “I’m starving.”

Robin grins and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “Go eat, I’ll put them to bed.”

Nodding, she watches Robin carry the boys up the stairs as she walks to the kitchen and drops her purse down on the counter as she kicks off her shoes. Momentarily, she thinks about David and Mary Margaret, wondering if once again true love found them--and then, she reaches for the plate of  _fancy_ pasta, as Roland had called it earlier in the evening. She grins, remembering how excited Roland had been about the bow ties as she pushes the plate into the microwave.

Rolling her shoulders, she sighs, staring into the microwave and watching the pasta spin. To say this had been a long day was an understatement, and despite a long nap in the middle of the day, she couldn’t wait to climb into bed and close her eyes and for just a little, not think about anything.

She finishes her pasta quickly and makes her way upstairs, grinning as she sees the light streaming from Henry’s room--and then, she hears Robin’s voice.

“Are you  _sure_ that’s them?”

“Yeah,” Henry responds. “Louie was fat and had black hair, just like that guy and… that’s definitely Donna’s scowl.” He sighs. “I should know, it  was usually directed at me.”

Robin doesn’t respond, but she hears him sigh.

“Robin, can I ask you something?” Henry asks in a tentative voice. “And will you answer honestly.”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” Henry says, taking a breath. “Do you remember that one night when we were all watching movies at your house and I asked if fairytales were real stories.”

“I do,” Robin replies easily.

“Is that what this book is then?”

She can hear Robin hesitate, likely unsure of what he should and shouldn’t sat, not really knowing where his boundaries with Henry lay. “Well, uh… yeah,” he says. “That’s exactly what this book is.”

“So, all of the stories and all of the people… they’re… they’re real.”

“You are correct.”

“Are you in the book?”

“I am,” Robin says. “I’m in there a couple of times… one is a kind of sad story with your mom, but…”

“A lot of her stories are sad.”

Robin sighs, “You are correct again.” Regina steps forward, leaning against the the edge of the door and letting a soft smile stretch onto her lips. Neither Robin nor Henry notice her, instead they focus on the storybook. Their legs are stretched out and Robin’s arm is around him, and they look so comfortable and content with each other. “But, I don’t think your mom’s story is a sad one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she has you now.”

“And you…”

Robin smiles and nods. “And me.”

“So…” Henry takes a breath as he turns the page, and even from where she’s standing she can see herself on the page. “So, that means… my mom is… is  _really_ the Evil Queen?”

Again, Robin hesitates and he takes a moment to brush the hair from Henry’s forehead. “It’s who she used to be,” he says. “She’s a complicated person with a difficult past and… so much capacity for love.” He nods, satisfied with his answer. “And if you’re one of the few that she loves, then you are lucky, indeed.”

“Yeah,” Henry said, grinning softly as he nods and turns the page back. “And… and if you’re not?”

“Then… you deal with the queen’s wrath.”

She feels her breath catch her as her eyes shift to Henry, and for a moment, he just stares down at the page--and then a smile edges onto his lips. “Good. Maybe she can protect me.”

“Just like a superhero,” Robin replies with a soft chuckle.

“Exactly.”

And she decides that’s her cue to make her presence known.

“Okay, time for bed, you two.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I did storytime,” Robin says, sliding off the bed and adjusting the blanket around Henry.

“No,” she breathes out as she shakes her head. “Because you did storytime, I got pasta-time… and I really enjoyed pasta-time.”

Henry giggles. “I made the pesto.”

“Which was fantastic,” she says, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Taking a breath, she smooths the blanket. “You okay to sleep alone tonight? Because, you can always…”

“I’m good,” Henry says easily, once more glancing down at the storybook. “And if I’m not, I’ll let you know.”

“Not like last night?” Henry shakes his head and she leans in kisses his forehead. “I love you, Henry.”

“I love you, too,” he says as Robin takes her hand and flicks on the nightlight.

They close the door and step out into the hall, and she watches as grin tugs onto Robin’s lips. “So, are you going to take your own advice and actually get some sleep tonight?”

With a sigh, she rolls her eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know, but…” His voice trails off momentarily as his hands find her hips. “I’m worried about you. I’m worried about…”

“Right now,” she cuts in. “The only thing I want to think about is getting into bed and letting you hold me. I don’t want to think about the curse or that damn book or Henry’s foster parent or what David Nolan is and isn’t remembering. And I’m going to try my best to do that.” She grins. “How’s that?”

“That… sounds like the second best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Second best?”

He laughs a little as they turn back to her bedroom. “The best was when Henry called the Evil Queen a superhero…  _twice_.”

A grin curls onto her lips and she nods--that had felt pretty amazing, and she only hoped that Henry’s expectations wouldn’t fall short and leave him disappointed in her.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina lets Henry take a "mental health day" off of school and they spend the day together. He learns more about her past and the curse, and she learns how his foster parents are connected to the fairytale world. Also, Robin and Regina talk about their future together.

Stretching out her legs, she arches her back, taking a breath as her eyes flutter open. From the window she can see the sky has taken on a pinkish hue. She could hear birds chirping outside her window and beside her, she could feel Robin. A smile slowly worked its way onto her lips as she rolled onto her slide, tucking her hands underneath her cheek as she watched him sleep. **  
**

She’d gotten used to having him with her–to falling asleep with him at her side. But she wasn’t used to waking up with him–or at least, not like this. Usually, she found herself awake in the middle of the night, staring up at the dark ceiling and letting what ever troubles plagued her roll around in her head as she passed judgement on herself. He’d usually wake up–almost as if he could sense it–and he’d make her tea. They’d talk for awhile before he’d coax her back to bed and then, the whole thing would repeat. Sometimes, Henry woke up first and she’d get up with him, and by the time he was settled and tucked back into bed, she was always a little reluctant to leave him. So, she’d stay up–watching over him and dozing for a few minutes here and there. Robin usually came to find her, bringing her blanket and offering his company.

But this was different. This was nicer, she thought, and it was something she could get used to.

A little laugh escapes her as she watches him sleep–his mouth open and his head tipped to the side, his beard seeming scruffier than usual as a light snore escaped him.

She’s never known anyone quite like him, never had anyone in her life who treated the way that he did. He was kind and attentive, thoughtful and empathetic and he had a way of making her feel like everything would be okay, that world would just work itself out as it was meant to. In a lot of ways, he’d kept her sane–making sure she never got too caught up in her worrying, that she had a sounding board to prevent her from getting lost in her own head, and most importantly, he’d ensured she had support. He loved her without condition, accepted her as she was, never asking her to apologize for things she couldn’t change.

And she loved him for it.

She loved him more than she knew she could, and she couldn’t imagine having gone through any of this without him. She wouldn’t have survived it…

“Please tell me,” he begins in a groggy voice as he turns on his head on his pillow, a slow smile stretching across his lips, “That you haven’t already been awake for hours.”

“No,” she says as a little chuckle rises into her voice. “I only woke up a few minutes ago.”

“Good,” he says as he rolls onto his side. “Glad to know that I’m not falling down on the job.”

“You could never…”

“You slept through the night,” he says quietly. “You got a full night’s sleep. What does that feel like?”

She laughs a little as her lip catches between her teeth. “I don’t know exactly… but in the last two days, I think I’ve gotten more sleep than I have in the last two months.”

“You deserve it.”

“Well,” she sighs, “I don’t know about that, but right now, I feel like I could take on the world.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “Hopefully not right this minute, though,” he sighs as he slides toward her.” She grins as his arm slides beneath the blanket and over her hip, his head bending so that his forehead rests against hers. “Because, if I’m not mistaken, there’s about forty minutes before your alarm goes off and that means there is more than an hour before Henry gets up and, well, Roland would sleep forever, if we let him…”

“So,  what did you have in mind?”

“Ohh,” he breathes out, rolling onto his back and pulling her to his chest as his arms situate around her. “I was thinking we could… just lay here, really still and quiet and…”

She laughs out, her laugh louder than it should be as he presses a kiss to her hair. “You want to go back to sleep. We have forty minutes until the boys are up and you want to sleep.”

“Yes,” he breathes out. “Some people really enjoy doing that.”

“I wouldn’t know,’” she tells him, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“You know,” he says, chuckling softly as he rubs his hand over her back. “Sometimes, I wake up extra early like this  _just_ so I can go back to sleep.”

“That… does sound nice.”

“I assure you, love, it is.”

She can’t help but smile as she nuzzles against him, letting her eyes close again. She listens to his heart beating as she feels his chest rise and fall, and she finds herself thinking that this must be what normal feels like–and that it’s something she could get used to.

And maybe, in the not so distant future, they can be normal.

“Robin?” She asks in a tentative voice, not expecting him to answer.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he replies groggily.

“Why did you go to Mr. Zinnia’s?”

“What?” He asks, suddenly more awake. She grins as she feels his heart beating a little faster as he tilts his head to peer down at her. “How did you know that I’d gone to see Mr. Zinnia.”

“Henry told me…”

“Tattletale,” he murmurs, laughing softly as he presses a light kiss atop her head. “That was… awhile ago.”

“Henry said it was last week.”

Robin sighs. “And… last week  _was_ awhile ago.”

“He wouldn’t tell me much, just that you’d taken him and Roland…” A little grin edges onto her lip. “And that things didn’t quite go as planned.”

“No, things… didn’t exactly go as planned.” Groaning a little, he hugs her tighter and she feels his arms tense. “And, maybe it was… for the better.”

“Oh?”

“I just… had this idea. You were working and I had the boys and I kept thinking that… I couldn’t wait for you to come home and I kept thinking about how much better everything is when it’s the four us and… I just got a little ahead of myself.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “You… got ahead of yourself.”

“Yeah…”

“But you… came to your senses.”

“Well, no, not exactly,” he says, laughing a little as he presses a kiss to her hair. “It was just one idea that didn’t quite pan out, I didn’t–”

“What idea?” She cuts in, rolling onto her stomach and resting her chin on his chest. “What  _exactly_ were you planning?”

His eyes narrow and he hesitates for a moment–and then, she feels his body relax beneath her. “I think you know…”

“I want to hear it.”

“Okay,” he says softly as he takes a breath, reaching out and tucking a few straying strands of hair behind her ear. “I was going to get your favorite flowers and fill the living room with them, so we went to the florist and soon as I got there I realized I had no idea what your favorite flowers were.” A lopsided grin tugs up at his lips. “Henry thought apple blossoms, but…”

“He’s right. I’m that cliche.”

Chuckling softly, he nods. “Well Mr. Zinnia didn’t have any.”

“He never does…”

“Well, we looked at roses and daisies and nothing seemed right, and so we left and on the way back home, we stopped in at my shop, just to check on things and I told John that I wanted to propose and he pointed out that we’d known each other less than…”

“You were going to propose…” She says slowly, as if it wasn’t obvious. “As in… propose marriage.”

Robin laughs a little and nods, “I was just… things didn’t work out that day and I figured maybe Mr. Zinnia didn’t have those apple blossoms for a reason.” She feels her smile fade a little as his fingers touch to her chin. “The timing was just… off.”

“The timing…”

“Yeah, I didn’t even have a ring and the more I thought about it the more I realized you’ve got a lot on your plate with Henry and the curse and…” He sighs. “I realized we hadn’t even talked about it.”

“No, we haven’t,” she murmurs as her stomach flutters–and she can’t quite tell if it’s nervousness or excitement. “So, that’s the reason you decided not to…

“Regina,” he cuts in. “I didn’t decide  _not_ to do it. I just… decided to  _wait_ to do it.” He takes a breath, suddenly sounding a bit nervous. “We are… headed in that direction, though, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” she says as smile draws back onto her lips as her cheeks flush and again, her stomach flutters. “I’d definitely say that we are.”

A soft grin stretches over his lips. “So, if I’d done that night with the wrong flowers and no ring at time that was less than ideal… you… would have…”

“Said yes,” she supplies as that anxious fluttering that she can’t quite figure out returns.

She watches as a smile twists into his lips as his head fall back against the pillow, and she feel a laugh bubbling up from his chest. “I feel like I just ruined… something,” he says, shaking his head as he looks back to her. “Like I just took away some sort of romantic moment we were meant to have in the future.”

“No,” she’s quick to say. “You didn’t do that and…” She sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “It’s nice having something to look forward to, something to daydream about when I… need a break from all of the chaos and worrying and–” Her voice trails off and she feels her cheeks flush–and then as she takes a breath, she pushes herself up so that she’s hovering over his chest. Her lips gently graze over his. She smiles as his lips seek hers, pulling back slightly as a soft laugh escapes her. “I love you,” she breathes out as she leans in the rest of the way, her lips finding him his as she kisses him sweetly, smiling against his lips as his arms come up  around her.

_____

By the time the sun is fully up, they’re out of bed and showered. She offers to wake up the boys if Robin will make them all breakfast, and he eagerly agrees, teasing that he got the better end the of deal. She rolls her eyes at him as she pads barefoot down the hall to the room Roland selected–a room he was very excited to call his own– and she peeks inside. The covers are bunched at his feet and he’s sprawled out on the bed in his Superman pajamas, taking up more space than she ever realized a child his size could occupy.  Laughing softly, she pushes herself into the room and sits down at the edge of the bed.

“Roland,” she calls softly, reaching out and rubbing her hand against his arm. “Sweetheart, it’s time to wake up,” she tells him, rubbing his arm until he starts to stir. “Roland?”

“Mm, is it morning?”

“It is.”

“Oh,” he sighs, scrunching his face as his bats his hand over his eyes. “Already?”

“Yeah, sweetie, already.”

Roland sighs again–and this time, it’s much louder–as he pulls himself up and his shoulders slump forward. “I was having a really cool dream,” he tells her in a groggy voice. “I didn’t want to wake up.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry I had to wake you,” she says, reaching out and adjusting his pajama top. “But your dad’s downstairs making breakfast and I’m pretty sure he said something about pancakes.” She laughs softly as Roland’s eyes widen. “So, why don’t we go wake up Henry, and then you can tell us all about your dream over breakfast.”

“Okay…” Rising from the the edge of the bed, Regina reaches for him, pulling him out of bed and settling him on her hip. From the corner of her eye, she can see Roland grin as his head falls to her shoulder and he nuzzles against her. “You’re comfy,” he tells her as they make their way down the hall to Henry’s room.

For a moment, she just stands there, watching Henry sleep–amazed by the fact that he’s still sound asleep. It’s a rare occasion that he isn’t already awake when she comes in to get up for school, and if he is still asleep, he wakes before she even reaches the bed. But on this particular morning, he doesn’t seem to notice her presence. His eyes are pressed tightly shut and his lips are slightly parted as his chest rises and falls evenly with each breath that he takes–and just can’t seem to find it in herself to wake him.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, coming up behind her and pressing a kiss to the top of Roland’s head. “I’ve got a stack of pancakes ready to be eaten.

“Okay… we’ll be down in a second.” She sighs. “I just… don’t want to wake him just yet.”

“He’s really out…”

“Yeah, and that’s not like him. He’s usually not a good sleeper.”

“Well, he probably needs it,” Robin says. “You know better than anyone how a lack of sleep just sort of… catches up with you.” He sighs as his hand slides around her waist, pulling her back against him. “And you know, there’s nothing wrong with letting him sleep. You two have been through a lot in past few days and… maybe he just needs some time to rest and process and…” Momentarily Robin’s voice trails off as he presses a kiss to her temple. “You could have a mental health day.”

“But I kept him home yesterday and…”

“So that he could see Archie,” Robin cuts in. “And he went for the afternoon.”

“That’s true. That wasn’t really resting.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he says easily, sighs as he takes a step back. “Now what you say we let him sleep and the three of us go have some pancakes?”

“I’d like pancakes,” Roland murmurs as he turns his head on Regina’s shoulder. “Is there powdered sugar, too?”

Regina laughs a little as she sighs and turns away from Henry’s door.  “Of course there is,” she says, pressing a fluttery kiss to Roland cheek. “And I’ve got that good syrup you like.”

“The kind that comes in the leaf shaped bottle?” Roland asks, his eyes widening as he lifts his head. “That kind is the  _best_.”

Robin and Regina both laugh as they go down to the kitchen. Robin slides plates in front of them and serves the pancakes, then plates a few for himself before joining them at the end of the counter. For a few minutes, Roland talks about the pancakes–going on and on about how fluffy they are and how he can’t decide is the powdered sugar or the syrup tastes better and how he’s glad he doesn’t have to choose. Robin makes a joke about sending him to school on a sugar high and he giggles as he admits they’ll be having cupcakes for a classamates birthday and Robin groans, muttering a comment about how he’ll also be returning home on a sugar high.

And then Roland’s eyes widen as he looks between them. “I had a really good dream last night,” he says.

“Oh, yeah. You said that when I woke you up.”

“What was it about?”

Roland grins. “I was laying in this big field,” he begins looking very serious as he looks between them. “The grass was really, really tall and there were all sorts of flowers mixed into it. They were dandelions or those kinda spikey purple things that grow on the grass sometimes, but  _real_ flowers. And we were laying there–you and me, daddy–watching the clouds.”

“Well, that sounds nice,” Regina murmurs, grinning as her eyes shift from Roland to Robin–and she’s surprised to see that his smile has faded away.

“What… else do you remember about the dream?”

Roland thinks for a moment, taking the time to shove a too-big piece of pancake into his mouth. “Well, some of the clouds were shaped like frogs and some were shaped like turtles and some were shaped like…um…well, just like regular clouds.” He giggles as he cuts his fork into another piece of pancake and shoved it in his mouth. “Daddy, you were there, too. You found a cloud that looked like a teepee.”

Regina smiles as her eyes shift to Robin–and to her surprise, he isn’t smiling at the sweet recounting of Roladn’s dream. Her brow furrows as Roland chatters on between bites, and slowly, she reaches out, touching her fingers to his forearm. He turns slowly to look at her and for a moment, he looks like he’s a thousand miles away.

“Roland,” he says, clearing his throat as he looks from Regina to his son. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed for school.”

“But… I’m still eating.”

“I know, but I need to make a stop at the shop before I take you to school and….” His voice trails off as Roland groans. “Go on…”

“How about I wrap up an extra pancake?” Regina suggests. “You can eat in in the truck.”

Chewing at his bottom lip for a moment, Roland sighs and nods. “Can I have two? One for in the truck and the other for snack time?”

“Sure.”

“Fine,” he sighs, slowly sliding down from his stool. “I’ll go get dressed.”

Regina watches as Robin’s eyes roll, his head falling back as he takes in a deep breath. “That… wasn’t a dream,” he says, closing his eyes. “That was a memory.”

Her chest tightens as she looks to Robin. “What?”

“Roland is remembering,” Robin says, his voice even as he swallows hard before tipping his head back up to face her. “Laying the grass and looking at the clouds, that actually happened.”

“It was a sweet memory,” Regina says, sensing an odd sort of agitation in his voice as guilt begins to bubble up. “At least he remembered something happy.”

“Except it wasn’t,” Robin tells her sighs as he shakes his head. “That morning, Roland asked me why he didn’t have mother and I told him that she’d gone to heaven.” He scoffs a little as she slowly reaches out, pressing her hand tentatively to his arm in a way she hopes is comforting. “I don’t really know if I believe in any of that–in heaven or hell, an afterlife or an underworld… but it seemed better than just telling him she was gone.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs in a voice that’s barely audible. “I’m…”

“It’s okay,” he cuts, sighing as his arm forms around her waist and he hugs her to him. “It’s just… hard…remembering.”

“I know…”

“So, Roland asked me where heaven was and I….” He sighs, “I pointed up to the sky and told him that it was in the clouds and so he spent the rest of the afternoon trying to see if he could see her.”

“Oh, god… that’s…”

“Heartbreaking.”

“Yeah.”

Robin sighs and presses a soft kiss to her cheek–and she finds herself wishing that none of this had to be happening. She wishes they wouldn’t have to relive such painful memories, that they wouldn’t have to discover such heartbreaking truths, and she wishes she could keep them all cocooned in the happy little bubble they’d created together.

But she was well aware that it was nothing more than a facade, and that keeping them there would only be hurting them in the long run.

_____

It’s just past nine-thirty when Henry comes down the stairs to find her in the living room, her feet up on the coffee table and a blanket over her lap as she goes over the city’s monthly expense reports. He bats at his eyes as he trudges toward her and she can’t help but smile as he climbs up onto the couch with her and cuddles into her side, pulling a knit blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around himself.

She puts aside the spread sheets and wraps her arm around him, pressing a kiss to his hair. “You hungry?”

“Kinda,” he says in a groggy voice as he yawns. “What time is it?”

“After nine…”

“What?!” He asks, pushing away from her. “I’m la–”

“You’re not late. I decided you could stay home today.” She grins as she reaches out to stroke the back of her hand against his cheek. “You were  _sound_ asleep when I came in to wake you and I figured you could use it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he murmurs as he leans back into her. “Does this mean we have the whole day to just… do whatever together.”

“I guess it does,” she says, chuckling softly. “I was sort of hoping you’d want to have a lazy day.”

“We could read in our pajamas!” He says, again pulling away from her. “After breakfast.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that…” A grin pulls onto her lips and she nods. “Robin made pancakes earlier, and there are still some left. I know they’re not great rewarmed, but we could pop them in the toaster oven and smother them with jam and…”

“Nutella?”

“I was going to say fruit.”

Henry grins. “Nutella goes with fruit.”

Sighing, she presses a kiss to his forehead and swings her feet down from the table. “I can’t say no to you.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Henry says as he pulls back. “I’m going to go upstairs for something to read.”

She nods and watches him go, laughing softly to herself as his socked-feet slide on the wood floor. Letting out a long breath, her eyes close momentarily, listening as Henry runs down the hallway to his room as if today were any normal day, as if their lives were just the typical, average life–as if he hadn’t just found out the night before that his mother way some larger than life legendary villain who was meant to be feared. And in the back of her head, she there’s a nagging feeling that makes her wonder how truly bad things were for him in his foster home that he would be comforted by knowing his new mother was the Evil Queen.

Getting up, she makes her way to kitchen and flicks on the toaster oven. Reaching for the foil, she wraps up the remaining pancakes and by the time she sets them in the toaster oven, Henry’s padding into the kitchen–with the storybook tucked beneath his arm.

Her stomach jumps as he sets it on the counter, but nonetheless, she carries on, gathering the fruit and jams and nutella. She watches carefully as Henry opens the book and looks down at the title page–and she holds her breath, waiting for him to open up to one of the stories.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she murmurs, trying her best to keep her voice even while her chest and stomach tighten. “Anything.”

“How… did… everyone get here?”

“What do you mean?” She asks, swallowing hard slices a knife through an apple.

Henry takes a breath. “From… the place that book is… to here… to Storybrooke.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, as she continues to slice the apple. “I… cast a curse.” She watches as Henry’s eyes widen a little as he looks up at her. “It was called the Dark Curse, and it sent everyone from the Enchanted Forest to… here.”

“And… no one remembers that?”

“No,” she says quietly. “That was part of the curse. Everyone got a new life.”

“Like a fresh start.”

She nods and takes a breath as she pushes the apple wedges aside. “You could say that.” Henry nods again and she watches as he chew at his lip, trying to process it. “I’m the… only one who knows,” she adds. “Well, Robin knows, too.”

“How does Robin know, but no one else does.”

She blinks as she reaches for a container of strawberries. “I… let him have his memories back.”

“How?”

“A potion…”  
  


“Potion!?” Henry repeats, again, his eyes growing wide. “You  _made_ a  _potion_?” Regina nods as her breath catches in her chest. “That’s… so cool.”

“Is it?”

He nods. “That’s like… something from Harry Potter!”  
  


“I… guess it is,” she tells him, laughing nervously as she cuts through another strawberry. “But it’s not–”

“So, you have magic,” he cuts in. “Like, you know spells and curses and…” He laughs a little, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s so  _cool_.” Again his eyes widen. “You’re… a witch?”

“Some people might say that.”

“Wow…”

“But, I don’t… have magic here,” she says slowly. “Not like I did in the Enchanted Forest, at least.” Henry nods as she round the counter and pulls herself up onto the stool beside, taking a deep breath as she reaches for his hand. “But it wasn’t all just… excitement and fun. I did a lot of really, really terrible things with that power, and I… I hurt a lot of people.”

“Why?”

“Because I was…” She sighs. “I felt alone and afraid and, I thought the world owed me something.”

“Robin said your story is sad…”

“It was,” she admits softly. “I don’t think it is now, but…”

“Robin said that, too.”

A grin pulls onto her lips. “I made a lot of mistakes, Henry.”

For a moment, Henry doesn’t respond and she watches as he chews at his lip. “Do you regret them?” He asks. “Did you apologize? Because that’s im…”

“I’m trying,” she cuts in. “I don’t know that apologizing is enough, though.” Taking in a short breath, she quickly exhales it. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to break the curse, and… give everyone their lives back.”

Henry blinks. “That sounds complicated.”

“It is,” she admits with a nod. “And so far, I haven’t quite been able to figure it out.”

“Couldn’t you just… give everyone the same thing you gave Robin?”

She sighs. “I wish it were that easy, but that potion wasn’t a permanent fix.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, his brow furrowing as he considers what that means. “Well, you’ll figure it out.”

A grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “You seem awfully sure.”

“I am,” he says easily. “I believe in you.”

Her chest tightens as she her eyes fill with tears, and suddenly, she can’t quite find her voice. Taking a shaky breath she leans forward, pulling him into a hug and holding him against her. He giggles a little and squirms as she presses a kiss to his cheek and it’s only when the timer on the toaster oven dings that she pulls away, still teary-eyed and speechless.

She pulls the pancakes from the toaster oven and then reaches for two plates, keeping a careful eye on Henry as she prepares their breakfast and he opens up the storybook.

Henry opens to a random page, looking down at it–and her chest clenches, remembering the way she mercilessly mocked a group of peasants. Her eyes close and she takes a breath as she hears a little gasp escape Henry, and she knows he’s reached the part of the story where she reached into a man’s chest and crushed his heart, simply to prove a point.

“Two nutella pancakes with strawberries,” she says in a hushed voice as she pushes a plate toward him. “Do you want milk?”

“Y-yes, please.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, her chest clenching as she hears Henry turn to another page, and this time a louder, shakier gasp escapes him. She grabs the carton of milk and a glass and quickly turns back to him, reaching out and closing the book. “How about we chat after breakfast, okay?” Henry nods and reaches for his fork as she pours him some milk and then reaches for her own plate. Her stomach is churning and her heart is racing, and it takes everything in her to keep her hands steady–and then, a soft giggle escapes Henry. “What?”

“You put nutella on yours, too.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, feeling herself relax a little and she smiles back, watching as he shoves particularly gooey piece of pancake into his mouth, then reaches for his milk, gulping it down. “Yeah, it… it goes better with apples.”

Again, Henry giggles. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything,” she says as she cuts her fork into a pancake.

“How did you… cast the curse?” He blinks up at her. “I just mean…” He stops and his lip catches between teeth. “I don’t actually know what I mean.”

Taking a breath she nods, and the perpetual knot in her stomach begins to tighten. “Do you mean… logistically? As in, what did I have to do?”

“Yeah, like, the magic part of it.”

“Well,” she begins, taking in a breath. “I had to find it first.”

“So, you didn’t write it?”

“No, but an old friend of mine–her name was Maleficent–had it and I had to–”

“Maleficent? Like, from Sleeping Beauty?” She nods. “That’s… so cool.” Again, his lip catches between his teeth and she chews at his lip for a moment as he process it. “So, if you’re the Evil Queen from Snow White and you were friends with Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty…does that mean Robin is really… Robin  _Hood_ …like the guy who shoots arrows and steals from the rich to give to the poor,  _that_ Robin Hood?”

She nods, “He is  _that_ Robin Hood.”

“This is  _so cool_.”

A grin pulls out her lips and she nods, remembering that night in New York when they’d watched the cartoon and Henry told her that it’d always been a favorite of his.

“Okay, so back to the curse. What happened after you got it from Maleficent?”

“I had to get everything together and follow the instructions and do everything just right and…” She takes a breath, suddenly thinking of her father. “And then I had to sacrifice the thing I loved the most.” She watches as Henry’s smile fades. “I had to… use my father’s heart to cast the curse.”

“His heart…”

“Yes.”

“And, that… worked?”

“It did,” she says as her jaw suddenly tightens. “I had to…”

“Kill your own father,” he murmurs, letting out a breath as his lungs deflate and his shoulders slump forward. “Wow.”

“It wasn’t easy,” she says, swallowing lump at the back of her throat. “And, um, you know how you asked if I had regrets?” Henry nods, focusing down on his pancakes. “That’s one of the things I regret.”

“So, you regret casting the curse?”

She hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head. “Not exactly.” Henry turns to face her and she feels her stomach flop. “I just… wish I’d been able to figure out another way to do it.”

“Oh…”

“Henry, I can’t fully regret what I did when I cast the curse because…”

“Neither can I,” he admits in a small voice as he turns to face her. “Because if you hadn’t done it you wouldn’t have been my mom and I…” He stops, his voice catching in his throat as he looks up at her with teary eyes.

“So, you… don’t hate me for… doing all of those terrible things and being a villain who–”

“You’re not a villain,” Henry says, suddenly finding his voice. “You’re my mom.” He takes a breath. “You’re not perfect and you’ve made mistakes, but… I love you and…” He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. “I could never hate you.”

She feels a rush of emotion as a smile tugs across her lips and the tears that had been welling in her eyes spill down her cheeks. In the times she’d thought about what this moment would be like, she never quite imagined it like this and she never quite imagined Henry being so accepting. She thought he’d struggle and want distance, she thought he’d push away, and though she never thought those things would last for too long, she’d expected to have to work at regaining his trust and proving to him that she’d changed.

Reaching out, she brushes the back of her fingers over his cheek, and he grins a little, turning his head and nuzzling a little against her hand. She pushes herself forward and pulls him into a hug, feeling an overwhelming surge of emotion and feeling so grateful he was the boy he was and that he had the heart that he had. She holds him tight against her chest and cups the back of his head, and when she tells him that she loves him he breathes out a muffled yet confident  _I know_ into her neck that makes her chest clench in the best possible way.

_____

Regina leans against the counter, watching as Robin works a sponge over a particularly sticky spot on the pan. Her eyes close momentarily as she waits, unable to believe how tired she is after a day of doing practically nothing.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs. “Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll finish up in here?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m fine, just… a little tired.” She grins as he hands her the pan and she grabs the dishcloth to dry it. “Besides, I’m not really interested in watching the boys narrate their way through playing Mario Kart.”

“Fair enough,” Robin says, chuckling softly as he nods. “So, how was the day off, other than being inexplicably tiring.”

“Oh, it was… fine,” she tell him. “Henry and I had quite few little chats about the book and my past and…” Her voice trails off. “I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s taking all of this so well, I’m just… waiting for the thing that sets him over the edge.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be a thing that sets him over the edge,” Robin says as he adds more soap to the water. “He loves you and I think it’s difficult for him to see you in anyway other than the mother he’s come to love. That doesn’t mean he has blinders on or he doesn’t understand. I think it just means that… he’s able to separate it all. He can look at your past and who you were and see that’s not who you are now.”

“That’s a lot for an eight year old.”

“He isn’t just any eight year old, though, is it?” She grins a little and shakes her head. “This is the first stable home he’s ever had, and you gave it to him. He’s not going to give that up because of some storybook that…”

“Tells him what an awful person his mother is?”

“Tells him about the mistakes his mother made.”

Regina sighs and nods, and she knows that he’s right. If Henry were to have been upset about something in the book, it’d have already happened. She could tell that it’d been difficult for him to process, that he really didn’t fully understand any of it–from her being the Evil Queen to the casting of the curse to her being directly responsible for the deaths of innocent people, including her own father. But just because he didn’t quite understand it, didn’t mean he couldn’t accept it or move past it–and if that afternoon was any indication, that’s exactly what he was doing.

After breakfast, they’d put the storybook aside and decided not to talk about it any more. They’d watched a couple of movies and played a couple of his games, and it was like nothing had change. He was the same Henry he’d been before he knew the truth about her. He smiled and he laughed and was confident. Once the morning passed, they’d made quesadillas for lunch and he’d grabbed his copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and they’d ate their lunch on the back porch, snuggled up together in a lawn as they finished the book.

“It’s just… been too easy.”

“Or you built it up into something it wasn’t.”

“Maybe,” sighs as he hands her another dish. “I just… can’t help but worry.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” he says. “Maybe, for once in your life, something is just going to work out the way that you want it to.” A grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “Not to change the subject, but I can’t even explain to you how excited Roland is about having a room here. When I picked him up, that’s all he could talk about.”

“Aw, really? We should… decorate it a little bit and make it feel a little more… personal.”

“He would  _love_ that.”

“Maybe this weekend we could take him shopping and he could pick out some things.” Handing her the last dish, Robin laughs out and shakes his head and her eyes widen at the unexpected response. “What? What’s so funny about that?”

“That’s just it, nothing. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“So, you’re just… laughing for the sake of laughing.”

Robin’s eyes roll. “No, I’m laughing because this is just so normal.”

“It is.”

“It’s nice.”

She nods, “Yeah.”

Then, his face changes. His smile faces and he leans back against the sink, taking a breath. “Not that I want to change the subject again,” he begins as she sets the plate down into the drying rack. “But I did a little sleuthing today and I discovered a little something about Storybrooke newest visitors.”

“Henry’s foster parents,” she says, her heart suddenly sinking as she nods. “I learned a couple of things, too.”

“Oh?”

“Henry pointed them out in the storybook,” she says, releasing a breath as she shakes her head. “Mrs. Tremaine–Madonna Tremaine–was an acquaintance of my mother’s.” Shifting on her feet, she turns to wipe down the ledge of the sink. “They were friends sometimes, rivals other times and… one day, she and her family just disappeared.”

“Disappeared to… where?”

“I never knew, but apparently to here… or, well, to New York.”

“Why?’

“I don’t know,” she says uneasily. “I just remember that she practiced Dark Magic, too, and was jealous of my mother’s relationship with Rumplestiltskin and… wanted to one-up her.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not sure how you can one-up the Dark One or if she succeeded, but…”

“Well, that’s not good,” Robin murmurs as her voice trails off. “I, um, I saw them going into the Pawn Shop and I followed them.” He shrugs, “I pretended I was looking for a door knocker or maybe a bell for the shop and…” He sighs, “They seemed to be talking in code with Gold.”

“Talking in code…” she repeats, her stomach dropping. “What you do mean?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell, exactly, but they seemed to be looking for something very specific, some sort of relic, it seemed, or maybe some sort of herb with magical properties.” Her chest tightens as she draws in a breath. “I don’t know much about magic, but it seemed they were…”

“Collecting things.”

“Or trying to.”

Letting out a breath, she swallows and leans back against the sink beside him. “What the hell are they planning?”

“I… don’t know,” Robin murmurs as he nudges her arm, waiting for her to look at him before letting a smile tug across his lips. “But I do know that they’ve taken a room at Granny’s and are planning to go back to the Pawn Shop tomorrow to see what Gold can dig up for them…at around ten.”

“Oh, well, that’s… quite useful.”

He nods. “Perhaps we could have a look around.”

“You think you can get it?”

His smile fades a little and his brows arch. “You don’t think I can pick a lock?”

A lopsided grin pulls onto her lips. “I would never doubt that.”

“Good,” he says, turning and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll go tomorrow. Perhaps we can do breakfast at Granny’s after dropping off the boys and maybe… get lost on our way to the bathroom.”

Regina laughs and nods as his hand slides around her waist. “That sounds like the beginnings of a wonderful plan.”

“We’ll figure this out, Regina. Don’t worry.” Nodding, she smiles and she feels herself relaxing, and she feels herself actually believing that they will and that everything will be okay. “Come on,” he says, tugging her away from the counter. “Let’s go see if we can’t tear the boys away from Mario Kart… or at least convince them to let us play, too.”

Regina laughs and shakes her head, and tries with everything in her to hold onto hopeful feeling she has in that moment, to keep her fears and sense of impending dread at bay, and enjoy the evening as if everything were completely fine and normal.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry has trouble processing some of the darker parts of Regina's past; Robin and Regina discover the link between Henry's former foster parents and the fairy tale world.

It had taken more than an hour of laying in the darkness for Regina to fall asleep, but finally, she had. Robin stayed up a little longer than that, staring up at the ceiling, almost as though waiting for her to wake up.

This is how he’d spent the last several nights, and it was becoming something of regular routine for them–and though he wasn’t going to complain about falling asleep night after night with Regina at his side, his stomach was constantly in knots and he was exhausted. He realized, though, that this was how she lived. She lived with a constant gnawing at her core, just waiting for her secrets to be revealed, just waiting to be discovered, just waiting for the karma to kick in. She lived in fear of losing the life she’d built for herself–of losing her second chance, of losing her son–and there wasn’t anything that he could say or do to quell that feeling. So, instead, he’d lay beside her, reminding her of the good things she had in her life–the good she’d done, the people who loved her unconditionally. Sometimes, it seemed like it worked and other times, it seemed like she’d simply got too tired to argue–but regardless of which it was, each night, he’d lay with her, coaxing her to sleep with the same reassurances that he could hope weren’t empty.

He knew that she’d hurt people. He knew that people were going to be angry, that they’d want their revenge on the queen that had cursed them. But he also hoped that when they were able to take a step back, they’d also see the good she’d done for them. Of course, she’d done it all for the wrong reasons–she’d wanted to hurt them, she wanted them to be as miserable as she was–but the curse hadn’t panned out the way they’d once feared that it would. The people who’d been punished most by the curse were the people who’d hurt her–and even then, their lives were far less terrible than they’d anticipated as threat of the Dark Curse was wielded. Snow and Charming had lost one another, the Mad Hatter lost his daughter–but, the vast majority of families stayed together. Granny Lucas and Ruby didn’t have a life much different than the one they’d left behind, and those who’d never crossed paths with the queen found themselves doing the same things they’d done in the Enchanted Forest, just modern versions of them. Most weren’t given painful backstories or difficult memories to live with; and while, losing their memories–which could easily be argued meant they’d lost their sense of self–they were happy in the lives the curse had given them. They had good jobs and a roof over their heads, they had friends and family, and day-to-day, they didn’t face anything challenges outside the usual ones. Life in Storybrooke could be dull–and he supposed that could be true for most small towns–but, they were safe in Storybrooke. There was a sense of community that hadn’t been present in the Enchanted Forest, and modern amenities had vastly improved life–and all of those things existed in their world because of Regina.

She wasn’t as vindictive as they’d all assumed. He could easily remember the constant fear–and looking back, that’d been the worst of it. Every prediction they made was filled with fire and brimstone, pain and agony–they’d all assumed she’d curse them to a literal hell, where they’d spent an eternity paying for what a mad woman perceived to be the sins committed against her.

And he hoped they’d remember that when the curse broke, that they’d be able to take a step back and realize how much worse it could have been–and though, he didn’t like to think of it, he hoped that whatever punishment they decided was necessary–if one had to be necessary at all–they were lenient. They’d never know what was in her heart–they’d never know about the tortured sleepless nights or the guilt that ate away at her, and they’d never know the regret she felt. But he hoped they’d empathize, that they’d see her as a flawed person who made mistakes–but a person, nonetheless.

That evening, she’d been walking on eggshells, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Henry had taken so much in stride, and she was convinced that he hadn’t completely processed, that there was some disconnect between the woman he knew as his mother–the woman who’d saved him when she adopted him and the Evil Queen who’d hurt so many innocent people. Robin, of course, told her it wouldn’t happen, that she was worrying unnecessarily–but that was what he had to say and it was what she needed to hear. Though he doubted Henry’s reaction would be far less severe than she anticipated it’d be, he knew there would be a reaction–even if it were a delayed one.

Understandably, it was a lot of an eight-year old to take in–his mother was a fairytale villain who’d cursed thousands of people and murdered thousands more in a quest for revenge–and, he likely wasn’t sure what to do with that information. It seemed too far-fetched to be true–and the only thing that linked her past and her present–in his eyes–was a magical storybook. Then, of course, there were the other things he was dealing with simultaneously–things that were more urgent feeling than his mother’s unsavory past. His foster parents being in Storybrooke had quite obviously been a jarring realization, and the fear that resonated in his eyes was heartbreaking. He was terrified of them and finding them in the storybook hadn’t helped–and, it was understandable that he looked to the Evil Queen–to his mother–and saw a protector. She had magical powers and would stop at nothing; she was someone to be feared, someone who broke the rules and didn’t care who got caught in the crossfire. The Evil Queen could keep him safe, and that’s what he seemed to be focusing on–and though Regina was skeptical about Henry’s seemingly selective understanding of who she was and what she’d done, he couldn’t see it as a bad thing.

And he supposed, only time would tell how Henry would feel.

“Robin… Robin, are you awake?”  He groans a little as he felt little fingers poking at his arm. “Robin?”

“Henry?” He asks as his heavy eyes flutter opened. “What’s the matter?”

“I… I need to talk to you.”

Lifting his head from the pillow, he tries to focus. “Henry, it’s…” He sighs and doesn’t even bother to look at the alarm clock at his side. “Okay,” he breathes out as he peels back the comforter. “You want to climb in?”

“No,” Henry says quickly, shifting on his feet. “Not in here. I, um… I don’t want to…”

“Oh,” Robin murmurs as he looks to Regina at his side. “Alright, let’s just…”

“Downstairs,” Henry cuts in, taking him by the hand as he gets out of bed, feeling a little unsettled and a little wobbly as he lets Henry lead him out of Regina’s bedroom and to the stairs–and he sighs a little when he sees that the kitchen light is already on. “I was thinking we could have some milk, and… talk.”

Robin nods and lets him lead him down the stairs. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“I couldn’t sleep… I just kept thinking about stuff.”

“Stuff… as in… stuff about your mom?”

“Kinda…”

“Ahh, I see,” Robin murmurs back, feeling a knot tightening, still not quite sure where his boundaries are with Henry. “What were you thinking about?” Henry doesn’t respond. Instead, he lets go of his hand as he step into the kitchen. Robin leans against the counter, watching as Henry moves the refrigerator and pulls out a quart of milk, then, drags a stool up to the stove as he reaches for the honey from the cabinet above–and he feels a smile draw onto his lips as he thinks of Regina and her nervous cooking habit. “Do you need help with that?”

“No, I got it.”

“You sure?”

Henry nods. “Uh-huh, I watch my mom do this all the time.”

“Okay,” Robin says, sighing a little as he keeps a watchful eye on the saucepan and the flame beneath it as Henry pours in the milk. “So, um… what did you want to talk about?”

Henry’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a breath. “The book.”

“Ah…” Robin murmurs as he feels his stomach drop. “Anything specific in it?”

“All of it,” Henry says quietly as he spoons in the honey and starts to stir. “My mom said that you, um… that you knew about it… about the curse and who she really is and… um, all the other stuff.”

Robin holds his breath. “You mean, the things she’s done.”

“Yeah…” Henry replies, his voice barely audible as he focuses down on the milk. “It’s just… you love her so much and you… you  _know_.”

Robin’s eyes slowly close as he takes a breath, suddenly understanding. “Henry,” he breathes out, as he pushes himself away from the counter. “You know your mother loves you, right?” Henry easily nods as he leans up into the tips of his toes and reaches for two mugs. “And you love her…”

“Of course, I do. I just…” His voice trails off and he sighs, his head falling forward as he focuses down into the saucepan. “It’s just…”

“Hard,” Robin murmurs as he comes up behind him, reaching out and stroking his hand over Henry’s hair. “She’s a… complicated person.”

“She’s  _very_ complicated.”

“But you know what?” Robin asks, taking a breath as he leans against the small counter next to the stove, watching as Henry ladles the milk into the mugs. “Loving her is  _so_ worth it.” Henry looks up and his hazel eyes are teary, his bottom lip trembling–and Robin feels his breath catch his chest, aching as he looks down at Henry, watching as he struggles.

“What if… I… what if I can’t…” Henry sucks in a breath as he looks away. “What if she doesn’t love me anymore?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, reaching around him to turn off the stove. “Come here.” His hands slide up underneath Henry’s arm and he lifts him off of the stool, setting him down on the island countertop at the center of the kitchen. “What’s going on, Henry?”

He watches as Henry’s jaw trembles and the ache in chest begins to throb. “I… I lied to her,” Henry says, sucking in a breath as he pushes out his voice. “I lied to my mom.”

“You did? About what?”

“About… about my nightmare and… and…” He stops, unable to find his words as tears spill down his cheeks.

“Oh, Henry,” Robin breathes out, dipping his head forward and pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “So, you think your mom is going to be mad at you–mad enough not to love you–because you told her a lie?” Again, Henry sucks in a sharp breath and Robin feels him nod. “Henry,” he begins, taking a half step back and bending so that they’re eye-to-eye. “You could purposely light this house on fire, and your mother would still adore you. She’s not going to  _stop loving you_ because you didn’t tell her the truth.”

“But… but… what if…”

“Are you afraid of her?” Robin asks abruptly, holding his breath as he stares into Henry’s eyes. “Because…”

“No,” Henry cuts in. “I’m not afraid of her.” Robin lets out a breath of relief as Henry’s eyes press closed. “I just… I don’t want to give her a reason to… to…” His face scrunches, forcing tears from the corners of his eyes. “To give me back.”

“Oh, Henry, that’s never going to happen.”

“But… before… when I was a baby…”

“No,” Robin cuts in, stepping back in and folding his arms around him. “Your mother’s made a lot of mistakes–a lot of terrible mistakes–but giving you up is one that she’ll never make again. I can guarantee that.” Pressing a kiss to Henry’s hair, his arms tighten around him. “Giving you up is the thing she regrets the most and…”

“Really?” Robin pulls back, his head tipping to the side as Henry’s eyes widen. “Of  _all_ her mistakes?”

“Yeah,” he says easily. “She loves you  _that_ much.” Taking a breath, Robin forces a smile onto his lips, ignoring the aching in his chest. “Come on,” he murmurs, reaching out and wiping away Henry’s tear tracks with his thumbs. “I’ll make a fire in the living room and we’ll cuddle up with a blanket and drink our milk and talk this out, okay?”

“I’ll grab the milks,” Henry says, taking a breath as he slides down from the counter. “And… thanks.”

Tousling his hair, Robin watches as Henry reaches for the mugs of milk, and then together, they go into the living room. Henry sets the mugs down as Robin starts the fire, and from the corner of his eye, he watches as Henry pulls a knit blanket down from the back of the couch, draping it over his lap as he settles back against the cushions–and he can help but grin as Henry’s feet dangle over the edge.

He grabs both mugs as he sits down beside him, stretching out his feet and resting them easily on the coffee table as he looks down at Henry. “So, let’s start with this,” he says, handing him one of the mugs. “What exactly did you lie to her about?”

Henry takes the mug and looks up at him. “The other day, when I had a nightmare and I wanted to see Archie…”

“Ah…” Robin murmurs, remembering Regina’s suspicions. “That.”

“I didn’t  _completely_ lie,” he’s quick to say. “I did have a dream that my old foster parents came and took me away and…” He lets out a breath as his eyes focus on the mug. “But then I tried to go back to sleep and… and I… I did, and then…” Robin watches as Henry presses his eyes closed. “She killed them.”

“Your mom?”

“The Evil Queen.”

“You… do know your mom  _is_ the Evil Queen, right?”

Henry nods. “Yeah, I just… that’s so weird to me.” He takes a sip of the milk. “They’re so different.”

“Are they?”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t know,” Robin murmurs. “I think the Regina you know is just… a tamer version of the one in those stories.” He grins a little as Henry’s eyes turn up to look at him. “In a lot of ways, I think the curse tamed her.”

“What do you mean?”

Robin takes a sip of the milk, considering. “Well, before the curse she was just… so full of anger.”

“She had a lot of reasons to be angry.”

“She did,” Robin agrees. “Life was… very unfair to her.”

“But… she also… made a lot other people angry.”

Robin nods. “That, she did.”

“She… killed people and… I just… I don’t understand how she…I mean, her own dad…”

“Yeah,” Robin breathes out as he thinks of the image in the storybook of Regina’s hand plunging into her father’s chest, the look of shock registering in eyes and the complete horror in hers. In that image, her pain had been so visceral and even in the still-framed moment, he could feel her heart racing, her tears threatening to spill over her eyes and the immediate guilt that settled at her core a she whispered that she was sorry, knowing that her words would never be heard. “That’s hard to swallow, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Henry says meekly. “I just can’t… I can’t picture my mom doing… any of those things.”

“It’s hard,” Robin agrees. “It’s hard to just… accept that.”

“But you do,” Henry says, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You accept it.”

“Well…”

“And you’re Robin Hood. You’re a hero and… you… you can… accept that.”

“I can,” he sighs. “It’s not easy and it’s not something that just happens, but I decided that I love her more than I hate the things she’s done.” He takes a sip of the milk, taking a moment to collect this thoughts–remembering how it’d been a snap decision, how he’d been faced with the choice of walking away or staying and he’d chosen to stay–but just because he’d stayed, didn’t mean he condoned the things she done. “You know, you don’t have to sort it out, now,” he says. “Your mom would understand that.”

“I… don’t want her to think I don’t love her.”

“She wouldn’t think that.”

“But…”

“Henry, she knows how hard this is to process. She knows she’s done terrible things… things that some would consider unforgivable.” A grin pulls onto his lips. “And her past isn’t all bad…”

Henry nods. “I know.”

“She’s a fighter. She’s a survivor, and she loves so, so deeply.” He laughs a little as he nudges Henry’s arm. “We’re lucky, you know that?” He smiles as Henry looks up at him. “It’s worth it to take the time to figure her out, to be patient with her and honest with her, and… to love her anyway.”

“You sound like Archie,” Henry says, as a smile tugs up at the corner of his mouth. “He’s always saying stuff like that.”

“About your mom?”

“Just in general,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

Robin nods, bending his head to press a kiss to Henry’s hair. “Listen, I know this is a lot on you and I realize that you’re worried about disappointing your mom, but you need to know that you could never disappoint her, Henry.” He sighs as he slides his arm around him. “And, it’s okay if you just want to focus on the good things about her past for awhile. That doesn’t mean you’re ignoring the bad things, you’re just… choosing to see the good in her.”

“Choosing to see the good in her,” Henry repeats with an almost contented sigh. “I like that.”

“You can… deal the rest of it later, just know that she loves you and she’d never hurt you and… no matter what anyone says, she’s a good person.” Henry’s head falls to his chest and he smiles as he pulls away his mug. “And she’s more than paid for her…” His voice trails off as he realize that Henry’s fallen asleep against him, and a soft smile stretches onto his lips as he he glances toward the stairs, wishing more than anything he could this easier on both of them.

_____

Rolling onto her side, she lets out a little sigh and she reaches for him–and when her hand falls into her emptiness, her eyes snap open. She sits up in the bed and looks around, her eyes falling to the alarm clock that hasn’t yet gone off–and she realizes that Robin either turned it off or reset it for a later time. A smile edges onto her lips as she turns to see Robin’s pants slung over the back of the chaise lounge by the window–and she does her best to keep herself in the little bubble they’d created together for themselves and the boys, to keep out thoughts of the curse and Henry’s foster parents and how it would all play out, and just focus on  _them_ , for at least the morning.

And then, she’d ease herself into the rest of it.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she takes the first step toward the kitchen, her thoughts filled with making coffee and preparing a breakfast for the boys before school–and then, she smelled the fire.

Turning her head in the direction of the living room, her eyes fell immediately to Henry and Robin, cuddled up together underneath a thick blanket as a fire dwindled at the hearth. Her breath catches in her chest as she stares at them and a warm smile draws onto her lips. As she nears them, she can see Robin’s arm folded around Henry and Henry’s cheek is smushed up against Robin’s t-shirt and his arm stretched over Robin’s stomach–and she grins at two sets of socked feet poking from underneath the blanket.

“Henry,” she whispers softly as she sits down on the edge of the couch, rubbing her hand over his leg. “Sweetheart…” Henry begins to stir and she grins as he cuddles closer to Robin. “Henry,” she says again, just a little louder than before as fingers move to his cheek and then push into his hair. “Hey, you…” She murmurs as his eyes flutter open. “What are you two doing down here?”

“Hm? What time is it?” He asks, lifting his head from Robin’s chest as he blinks at her. “Is it time to get up?”

“It’s about ten to six,” she says in a loud whisper. “So, you’ve still got a little time to sleep before you need to be up for school.”

“Oh…” He breathes out, as his eyes flutter. “That’s… more than two hours.”

“Look who’s doing math,” she says as a soft chuckle rises into her voice as she continues to stroke her fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep for a bit.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a nod, making no effort to move.

“Do you want me to help you go up? Tuck you in?” Again, Henry nods and she takes his hand, gently pulling him up and she smiles as he cuddles into her side as they slowly make their way to the stairs. She helps him into bed and he’s out as soon as his head hits the pillow. She tucks the blanket up around his shoulder and reaches over to turn off the nightlight on his bedside table, and then, she lingers for a few minutes, just watching him sleep–and as it frequently happens, she finds herself completely taken aback by how much she loves him.

Leaning in, she presses a kiss to his cheek, then pulls away, closing the door on her way out. She stops briefly at Roland’s, poking in her head and smiling as her eyes fall to him, sprawled on the bed with his arms and legs stretched out, completely and innocently unaware of the pending chaos that surrounded his life.

Heading back down stairs, she finds Robin where she left him–and momentarily, it occurs to her to just let him sleep, to go on into the kitchen and make herself some coffee and figure to what she’s supposed to with her day. But she can’t yet face it and she doesn’t want to do it alone, so she pads into the living room and sits down on the edge of the couch, pushing herself back as she lifts his arm around her and cuddles close. Her eyes close and she takes in a breath and she finds herself thinking that she can’t imagine going through any of this without him at her side–how much easier it’s been to have someone to talk to, to reassure her, to calm her, and she finds herself wondering what her life would have been like had she had that all along…

Her heavy eyes flutter open and she finds the room much brighter than it was when she sat down. Robin’s arm tightens around her and he presses a kiss to the top of her head and she feels a slight smile tug onto her lips. “Good morning,” he murmurs as she turns her head up to look at him. “You know, I seem to remember falling asleep with another Mills…”

“Henry’s upstairs,” she replies softly as her eyes fall to the coffee table and to the mugs of half drank mugs of now-cold milk. “Did he… have a nightmare?”

“No…”

“Then…”

“He wanted to have a little chat, man to man.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, feeling a flicker of something at her core. “What about?” She sighs as Robin hesitates, and she has her answer. “Me…”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “We talked a bit about you.” She tenses and her stomach drops, and once more he presses a kiss to her hair. “He loves you, Regina. He loves you so much, he’s just…”

“Struggling.”

“It’s a lot,” Robin tells her. “He’s only eight and…”

“And he has to come to terms with the woman who adopted him–”

“His mother,” Robin cuts in.

“Well, then he has to come to terms with his mother being a tyrannical murderer.”

Robin sighs. “I’m not sure that’s how he sees it… not completely.”

Turning her head up to look at him, she takes a breath and then pulls out of his embrace, taking him by the hand and tugging him up. “I… think I need coffee for this conversation.” A soft chuckle escapes Robin as he follows behind her, loosely holding onto her hand. “So, what happened, exactly?”

“With Henry?” He asks as they enter the kitchen. “Oh, he just… he had a lot on his mind and couldn’t sleep, so he was… trying to figure things out.”

“About my past,” she replies as she releases his hand and moves to the cabinet and reaches for the coffee. “So, he  _did_ react to it,” she adds, looking back at Robin from over her shoulder, watching as he leans against the counter. “He just… didn’t want to do it in front of me.”

“Maybe,” Robin murmurs. “I think… he just…wanted another opinion.”

Regina blinks. “Another opinion.”

“He was afraid that if he… questioned you…”

“Oh,” she breathes out, turning sharply toward him. “Is he afraid that I’d….”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in. “He knows you wouldn’t hurt him. In fact, I think he was more concerned about hurting you.” He grins a little, and she’s sure it’s only to calm her. “He’s struggling to process some of the darker parts of your past, things like…”

“Killing my own father…”

“Yeah,” he murmurs in reply. “That… came up.”

Taking a breath, she flicks on the coffee pot. “What did he say?”

“Just that… he doesn’t quite understand it, that he was struggling understand how you could…” Her eyes sink closed. “Regina, I think the big take away here is that he loves you and he wants to understand. He’s eight, though, and I’m not sure that he  _can_ understand just yet.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “That’s probably true.”

“Once the curse breaks, maybe…”

“What happens once the curse breaks?” Henry’s voice cuts in, and both she and Robin turn to face him. “Or, actually, wh-what happens if it doesn’t?”

Her chest tightens as she takes a few steps toward him, glancing momentarily at Robin and attempting to draw strength from his encouraging grin. “Well, if it doesn’t then… everyone’s memories sort reset.”

“Like… they’ll forget.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Everything just sort of fades away.”

“Even Robin’s?”

Swallowing hard, she nods. “Even Robin’s.”  
  


“So, he’d… forget me?” Henry asks, his eyes widening as he looks to Robin. “He’d forget you?” Regina nods as her jaw tightens, her stomach churning as she watches Henry try to process what that would mean for him. “Would I forget?” He asks, his eyes shifting back to Regina. “Would you?”

“No,” she’s quick to say. “You and I wouldn’t.”

“Oh…”

“But the thing is,” Robin says, “The curse  _will break_  and I  _will remember_.” She watches as the corner of Henry’s mouth pulls up and she sighs, feeling her stomach drop again as Robin lifts Henry onto the counter. “But it’s a little too early to think about that,” he tells him. “Especially when we could be thinking about your mom’s French toast.”

Henry’s eyes widen a little. “The kind with the cinnamon?”

“Is there any other?

“I should go wake up Roland,” Henry says as he looks between them. “He  _loves_ mom’s French toast.”

Regina smiles and her stomach flutters again as Henry hops off the counter and runs up the stairs, seemingly unbothered by the heavy conversation they’d been having only a moment before.

“I… hope you don’t mind,” Robin says as he turns to her.

“About the French toast?” She asks, shaking her head. “No, that’s easy enough, but…” She sighs. “We don’t know that the curse will break.”

“I have faith that it will,” he says, not missing a beat.

“You forget that I have no idea how to do that. My first idea failed–Snow kissed her comatose Prince Charming and…nothing happened.”

“That’s not completely true. He woke up. That’s something,” Robin says easily. “You’ll figure it out and… people are remembering, albeit slowly, and…”

“Too slowly to really matter,” she sighs. “It’s already May, Robin. And in August… everything just… goes back.” Her breath hitches in her throat. “And did you see the way he looked when I told him you’d forget. It was…”

“Regina,” he murmurs, cutting in as he reaches for her hand and tugs her to him. “You and I are going to figure this out.”

“You and I…”

“You’re not in this alone, Regina, and besides, even if we don’t figure this out, I  _won’t_ forget you or Henry.”

“Robin, you can’t…”

“I fully expect you to slip me some of that remembering potion or whatever it was you fed to me to give me back my memories because I  _will not_ forget you.” Taking her by the arms, he draws her in and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Now, we should get started on that French toast, otherwise, we’re going to have two very hungry little boys down here, scowling at us while they eat Cheerios.”

Regina nods and her hand catches his as he attempts to step around her. “I love you,” she breathes out. “You know that right?”

“I do,” he nods, offering her a quick wink as he squeezes her hand. “And I hope it goes without saying that I love you, too.” She nods and releases him, watching as he reaches for a loaf of bread and she desperately tries hold onto their happy little bubble and ignore the rest of the world for just a tiny bit longer.

_____

Robin’s fingers curl down around Regina’s as the school bell rings, indicating the start of the day. It occurs to her that she should turn left toward City Hall and, at the very least, check in to assess the damage done by an impromptu week away–but it’s no more than a thought as Robin tugs her the opposite way toward Main Street.

“You know,” he murmurs soft as they walk slowly toward Granny’s. “I caught a glimpse of that super secret story Henry had to write as part of his homework…”

“Oh?” She murmurs,remembering how he’d disappeared upstairs for more than an hour before dinner, closing his door and not even letting Roland in. “And?”

“Well, I couldn’t read it, but there was definitely an illustration of the Evil Queen–dressed as she’s dressed in Snow White–flying with her cape flapping in the win and…” She sighs a little as s chuckle rises into her voice. “She looked like she was off to save the day.”

“Or ruin it.”

“Not in Henry’s version of the story.”

A grin tugs onto her lips and she looks over to him. “As sweet as it is that he wants to see her–”

“You,” Robin corrects.

“Fine,” she says, bristling a little. “As sweet as it is that he wants to see  _me_ as some sort of superhero…”

“Regina,” he cuts in. “Henry’s eight. He’s obsessed with all things superheros and magic, and he’s just found out the mother he adores is an incredibly powerful sorceress who… tosses fireballs and makes potions and can apparate to wherever she wants.” He gives her hand a squeeze as they continue on down Main Street. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing that he’s found something relatable or redeemable in the Evil Queen, and…”

His voice trails off and she chuckles softly. “Henry would be proud of your Harry Potter reference.”

A little grin edges onto his lips. “Don’t tell Roland, but I read ahead.” Her eyes widen a little and she laughs out as they near the patio in front of Granny’s. “What? He falls asleep after, like, a page. Am I just supposed to stop? At this rate, he’ll be forty by the time we finish.”

“Well, ten points to Gryffindor for your determination to get through,” she laughs, remembering the day they’d all sorted themselves, remembering how excited the boys had been. “So… quick breakfast and then…”

“And then we get lost on our way to the bathroom,” he murmurs as he tugs the door open. “Ready?”

“I am,” she breathes out, her voice more confident than she’d expected. “I’m ready to… figure this out and get them the hell out of Storybrooke.”

Robin only nods as Granny ushers them into what’s become ‘their’ booth by the window. Her brow arches when Regina orders toast and coffee and she scoffs at Robin’s oatmeal order, and with a shake of her head, she sighs and disappears toward the kitchen. Only a few minutes later, she brings the order,

“I think she… knows.”

“She can’t,” Robin scoffs as his eyes shift from Regina to Granny. “Well, not exactly.”

“She knows we’re up to something.”

“Maybe, but…” He chuckles softly as he dips his spoon into the oatmeal. “Something tells me if she did know, she’d be on our side.”

“Your side…”

“My side is your side,” he sighs. “Besides, if anything, she thinks the world of Henry. Everyone in this town does, and I think if faced with the choice between the Evil Queen and the foster parents who treated him so terribly, they’d side with the Queen, hands down.”

Her eyes roll, but a smile tugs onto her lips as she bites into her toast–and she can’t help but wonder if that would still ring true if Granny–and anyone else in Storybrooke–knew who she really was and remembered the terrible things she’d done. Her thoughts shift to Mary Margaret, and her little confession about envying the life she and Robin were building together–and once again, she found herself wondering. It wasn’t often that she let herself think beyond the curse–about the fallout and how people would feel, how their opinions would change–and she surprised to find herself caring more than she ever anticipated she would.

But before she can get too lost in her thoughts, Robin’s foot nudges her beneath the table, and a moment later, he slides from the booth and down the long hallway that leads to the bathrooms and the adjoining inn. She waits a few minutes, keeping a watchful eye on Granny and Ruby as she nibbles on the crust of her toast–and then, she tosses down money to cover the cost of their breakfast and meets Robin in the back.

“I feel like she was watching,” she murmurs in a low whisper, as Robin works on the lock.

“She didn’t follow us…”

“She probably thinks we’re having a quickie in the bathroom or…”

A grin tugs onto Robin’s lips as he looks back at her from over his shoulder. “Maybe another time we’ll have to prove her right?” Regina’s eyes roll, but before she can reply, the door opens and Robin tugs her in. “Alright, we’re in…”

“And… what are we… looking for, exactly?”

“Anything useful,” he murmurs, already opening a dresser drawer. “You’ll know when you find something.”

“Will I?”

“Relics from another realm, things with magical properties… this is definitely your thing.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, taking a breath as she moves to the closet, her eyes falling to an old leather suitcase. “Here goes…”

Robin grins over at her as he opens another drawer. “Make sure to check the linings of that thing.”

She nods, slowly sifting through the suitcase, finding nothing more than men’s clothing and a pair of shoes–then, taking a breath, she runs her hand along the tight fabric that lines the edge, her eyes widening when she feels a hard lump beneath the surface. She looks up to Robin and takes a breath, running her finger along the seam and then a little gasp escapes her when her finger touches to a small tear just behind the seam of the zipper.

“Having fun over there?”

“I… think I found something,” she tells him in a hushed voice as her finger dips between the layers of fabric. “I just can’t quite…” Then, her finger touches to the small, circular object. She smiles victoriously up at Robin as she drag us up and he smiles back. “It's… a… bean,” she murmurs as she drops it into her hand. “It’s…” Her voice stops. “This could open up a portal.”

“I thought the last of them had been been used.”

She nods. “They just became incredibly rare. People hoarded them–fairies and time travelers, mostly–and I remember Rumpelstiltskin was forever trying to get his hands on one to…” Her breath catches in her lungs and her stomach drops. “Why would Henry’s foster parents want to… oh, god.”

“Regina, you don’t know that…”

“Why the hell else would they have something to open up a portal?” She snaps, watching as his eyes soften. “I’m sor–”

“Don’t apologize. You’re right. There is only one reason someone would have that.” He sighs as he plucks a paper bag from one of the drawers and empties it into his hand. “And… I think I know where they want to go.” Regina blinks as the knot in her stomach tightens and Robin pulls a gold compass up from his palm. “This is what they bought at Gold’s shop,” he murmurs. “And, if I’m not mistaken,” he murmurs as he flips it around, “This is a map of Neverland.”

“Neverland…”

He nods and holds it out to her. “The only question is… what’s in Neverland?”

It takes only a few minutes for them to put the room back in order. Robin slips the bean and the compass into his pocket and together, they slip out of the room, walking quickly back to the diner. Regina can feel Granny’s eyes on them as they hurry though the diner, and in different circumstances, she’d be amused by it.

Robin heads toward the library and she heads toward her vault, both in search of learning as much about Neverland as an afternoon will allow.

Her mind reels as she tries to connect it all, meeting dead end after dead end as she tries to figure out how Rumplestiltskin and the Termaines are connected to Neverland, and to each other–and for the life of her, she can’t figure out how Henry would factor in to any of it.

It didn’t surprise her thought that there was some connection. Ever since Emma Swan visited Storybrooke, Rumplestiltskin had been strange toward Henry and it was obvious that her arrival–and perhaps quick departure–had jarred something in him. There was that throw away comment about how charming Henry was and a little laugh had risen up behind the moniker used for Henry’s biological family; and every now and then, she couldn’t help but notice his gaze, the way he focused his attention on Henry whenever they passed by his pawn shop on the way to Robin’s store or the way he’d linger as they passed each other on the way into the diner. But though she noticed it, for the life of her, she didn’t understand it.

With a frustrated sigh, she lets an old dusty book about magical properties across the realms fall into her lap and her eyes close. There’s an aching in her chest and a gnawing at her core that she can’t quite ignore and with each moment that passes, she feels her heartbeat quickening as she thinks of Henry and how terrified he is of his former guardians–the look that resonated in his eyes when he saw them walk by when they’d all been eating ice cream, the way his breath caught in his throat when he noticed the in the book, and the way the light seemed to fade from him when he woke up from the nightmare he’d had about them the other night–and she thinks of how desperately she wants to make it all better for him, to them go away.

Her eyes fly open and her shoulders tense as she hears movement above her, followed by the sound of the passage way opening–and for a brief moment, she forgets that she gave Robin instruction for how to open the vault, should he need to find to find her.

“You really need a better lock,” he says, coming into view from the narrow staircase. “That was  _unbelievably_ easy. You made it sound like I’d be challenged–”

“Did you find anything?” She asks, cutting in as her brow arches. “At the library.”

“Perhaps,” he murmurs. “It might be nothing.”

“It’s more than I’ve figured–” She stops, tipping her head to look around him. “Is that… a crossbow strapped to your back?”

“It is.”

“Why?”

He blinks as if her question is an odd one. “Well, the excuse I gave is that I wanted to go turkey hunting, but…” He sighs. “I thought you might need a sniper and–”

“A sniper,” she repeats, her eyebrows arching. “You think I’ll want a sniper to  _off_ Henry’s foster parents?” She blinks and finds herself considering it. “I really just wanted to run them out of town.”

Robin laughs a little and shakes his head, pulling crossbow from his back and setting it down as he sits done on the stone bench beside her. “This evil thing really isn’t natural for you, is it?” Her eyes roll as he drops a bag of his arm and pulls out a stack of books. “I couldn’t find much in the way of folklore or resources or anything like that and then, I stumbled across these.” Regina looks down as he sets the books in her lap and an uneasy feeling settles in her as she reads the titles, all of which are similar and all including the words

“Have you heard of them?” Robin asks as she flips the last one to the top of the stack.

“No…”

“I didn’t do a thorough reading, but the boys are orphans who form a tribe in Neverland and–”

“Henry,” she breathes out.

“Yeah,” he says with a nod as his hand comes up against her back, rubbing soft circles between her shoulder blades. “They… run away from their terrible lives and they…”

“He was supposed to be a lost boy?”

“Perhaps…”

“But…” She shakes her head. “Why? Why would they…”

“From the looks of it,” he begins as her voice trails off. “Most of the boys are just a little older than Henry when they arrive and–” He stops as she opens one of the books to see a young boy wearing a headdress and a lion cloth cutting another boy’s cheek with a spear. “It can get quite brutal, it seems.”

She closes the book and draws in a breath. “But what would  _they_ get out of it?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t quite figure that out.”

“There has to be something, some incentive or–” She stops, suddenly getting up and going to a trunk of things that had once been her mother’s. She shifts around in it until she finds a little vellum book bound with fraying ribbons. She opens it up, glancing quickly at Robin as she thumbs through the pages. “There were a few poems in here about… immortality and…” She stops. “They were oddly dark,” she tells him. “I remember finding it and not sleeping for a week thinking my mother was going scarficice me to the–” Her voice stops as she reaches the page. “Here…” Robin joins her at the trunk and together, they read over a handwritten poem about a shadowy figure who feasted on young hopeful souls, draining them of life in exchange for his own youthfulness. “They haven’t aged,” Regina murmurs as she looks to Robin, her hands suddenly trembling. “Henry said they looked exactly the same in the storybook as they did when he knew them and…” her voice trails off as she takes a shaky breath. “And that’s impossible.”

“But the curse…”

“Only effects Storybrooke. If you or I had been living in Boston or New York or any other place in this realm, we’d be almost thirty years older, and we’d look it, too.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” she sighs. “I just… I just know I need  to see Henry.”

“Well, your timing is perfect. School lets out in an hour.”

Taking a breath, she nods and drops the book back into the trunk. “That’s perfect. That’s just enough time.”

“For what?”

Reaching for an empty vial on a shelf beside her, she looks back to Robin. “To make a protection spell.” She shakes her head. “I won’t let them hurt him. I can’t…”

Shifting toward her, Robin nods, watching her as she opens up a spell book that’s already laid out–the one she used to create the potions to help him remember and get him and Roland safely over the town line. “Tell me what I can do to help,” he murmurs as his hand brushes against the small of her back.

“Okay,” she breathes out, smiling uncomfortably as she nods and hands him a jar. “Hold this…”

_____

They arrive at the elementary school, just as the bell is ringing. Together, they stand in their designated spot by the fence and wait for Roland Henry to emerge from the crowd. She’s a little anxious as she stands there, shifting on her feet as she watches the kids run in different directions–and she flinches when her cell phone starts to buzz from its place in her pocket. With a sigh, she reaches for it, accepting the call without checking the caller ID. She groans a little at the sound of her secretary’s voice and she barely listens to what she has to stay, instead focusing her attention on the school’s doors.

The crowd starts to thin and sees Roland step out–and her stomach tightens to find that he’s alone, but she’s quick to remind herself that they’re coming from opposite sides of the school and the times she’s picked them up together, she’s usually had to wait for one for whatever reasons.

“And you got sort of an odd… letter.”

“What?”

“You got a letter in the mail, but there’s not a stamp or an address, it just has your name on the front.”

Her stomach drops and her eyes fall away from the school. “Open it.”

“You… want me to open your mail,” her secretary repeats, her voice uneasy.

“Isn’t that what I asked.”

“Y-yes, of course,” she murmurs as Regina holds her breath, listening as Roland calls out to Robin. “It… just says… whoever sent this keeps missing you at home, but you shouldn’t worry because they’ve taken care of everything.”

Her stomach drops and her lungs deflate as she turns to watch Robin lift Roland off the ground. “That’s all?”

“Yes, it’s… kind of rude…”

Regina nods as her jaw tightens and she murmurs a disinterested thank you as she turns her attention back to thinned out crowd of students. “Where’s Henry?”

“I don’t know,” Roland says. “I thought he was out here already.” He shrugs and looks between them. “Maybe he forgot his lunch box or something. I did that once and I have to all the way back to my classroom and all the back to the front of the school.”

“Maybe…” Regina nods, her eyes fixed on the doors. “Yeah…”

“His class had a weird sub today, too.”

“What?” She breathes out, turning to look at Robin. “Ms. Blanchard wasn’t there?”

Roland shakes his head and her eyes slide to Robin. “Everyone was talking about how mean the sub was and they were glad not to be in the third grade today,” Roland explains. “They even had to eat lunch in the classroom because they got in trouble, so I didn’t get to ask Henry about about it.” Regina’s breath catches in her throat and a wave of nausea hits her. “Ms. Blanchard’s class never gets in trouble…”

She’s barely aware of what comes next, and the next thing she knows she’s standing in the school’s main office. Her hands tremble and her eyes sting with tears as she explains to the school’s secretary that her son never came out of the building. Robin’s arm stretches around her as Henry’s paged once and then twice, and the secretary assures her that Henry was accounted for on each hour’s attendance report. When Henry doesn’t come to the office, she pages him for a third time and suggests they all walk down to Ms. Blanchard’s classroom, suggesting that sub might still be there. Regina nods and follows her, though she knows it won’t do much good–and when they reach the room, they find it empty.

“Can I have the name of today’s sub?” Robin asks as she stares into the classroom.

“Um… Mrs. Tremaine,” the secretary says as tears spill down Regina’s cheeks and her entire body goes numb.

Robin leads her back to the office and when they get there, John is there to retrieve Roland. Regina watches as he hoists the boy onto his hip and claps Robin on the back, murmuring something reassuring that she doesn’t quite hear. Robin crouches down in front of her, rubbing his hands over her knees as he tells her again and again that Henry is going to be alright, that he’ll back with them before they know it, and that Graham is on his way. She nods in acknowledgement, wishing more than anything she could believe him, wishing she could take comfort in words and in his faith, and wishing more than anything that it wasn’t already too late.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Regina find Henry.

It’s strange the way time is moving–everything seemingly in slow motion, yet every time she blinks, something else is happening and a new scene unfolding in front of her, as if each blink fast-forwarded just a little bit.

At some point Graham had arrived, accompanied by a few other officers. He talked to the secretary and to Robin, and for a split second, he’d caught her gaze, offering her what seemed like an empathetic little smile before she looked away and he continued on. Robin told her they’d asked them to stay until the search was over, that they had questions–run of the mill sorts of things–that they needed to ask her. She’d nodded numbly as he sat down beside her and held her hand–and all she could think was that none of this was going to help. Graham could never know the whole story–even if she told him, she’d sound crazy–and it was her secrets that were putting her son in danger.

All of this was a waste of time, but she couldn’t do anything about it–and even if she could leave freely, she isn’t entirely sure where she’d even begin. The handful of clues she and Robin uncovered in the Tremaine’s room at Granny’s only pointed to plans beyond Storybrooke and had hardly painted a full picture…

She couldn’t even be sure when it was that Henry was taken and she was very well aware that they’d likely get out of Storybrooke as quickly as they could, heading back into the real world where they had the advantage.

Graham returns and momentarily, she’s pulled back into the moment. Robin gets up quickly and she watches as he and Graham talk to each other–and once again, everything feels hazy, like it’s happening in a dream she’s watching from afar rather than just a few feet away from her. She watches as Graham explains something and Robin nods along, and then her jaw stiffens as she watches Graham shift Henry’s backpack into Robin’s hand. She thinks to get up, but by the time it occurs to her, Robin is on his way back and sitting down beside her as he explains one of the officers found it hanging in the closet in Mary Margaret Blanchard’s classroom where the children usually kept their things during the day.

Her hands tremble as she takes it, her fingers rubbing over the Captain America shield on the on front of it, and she can’t help but remember the day they’d brough it.

Henry had been so excited to pick it out–his eyes widening as she nodded and confirmed that she really had meant it when she told him he could pick out whichever one he wanted. He’d spent almost an hour milling through the small section of the department store, investigating each bag for several minutes, picking out the colors and designs he liked best. A smile tugged onto her lips as she watchedhim investigate the pockets and available storage, which ones had adjustable straps and which came with keychains and pencil cases and other little things that seemed to increase that backpack’s coolness. Then, once he’d settled on a few, he carried them over to the mirror by the women’s hats and scarves in the adjacent section, trying on each backpack before finally settling on the red, white and blue one shaped Captain America’s shield–and he’d looked up at her with big eyes, asking if he could  _really_ have it….

Taking a breath, she tugs at the zipper at the front pocket–the inner circle of the shield with a a stair sewn into the center, and with a wistful smile, she remembers how this part of that bag had been such a selling point for Henry. Her fingers trace over the alternating blue and red bands that hold his favorite pencils and tucked in the little mesh pocket is a well-used pack of colored pencils and the blue highlighter he and Robin use to circle his answers on his math work.

Momentarily, her eyes press close and she feels Robin’s head dip forward, his forehead resting at her temple as his arm slides around her. She can feel her tears welling behind her eyes, threatening to slip out and her chest suddenly feels tight, aching with loss.

Robin presses a kiss to her hair and he rubs gently at her back as her eyes open and her tears slip free, and in her ear he whispers she doesn’t have to do this now, but she takes a breath and unzips the main part of the bag–and the first thing she sees is the story Robin had told her about that morning, a story about the Evil Queen saving the day…

It’s ironic, she thinks as she looks down at Henry’s illustration of the queen–of her–flying over Storybook in an outfit that looks a lot like the one Disney chose for her, her black cape flapping in the wind and her gold crown slightly tipped to the side–and it suddenly occurs to her that Henry expects her to save him and the idea of failing him stabs at her core as guilt washes over her and once more, she tells herself that this is her fault.

“We’re going to find him, Regina,” Robin whispers as he presses a soft kiss to her temple. “We’re going to find him and bring him home, and this will all be over soon.”

“You can’t know that…”

“They can’t get far,” he tells her. “Not really…”

“They can go  _anywhere_.”

“Not… anywhere,” Robin murmurs as he pulls back and reaches into his pocket. “We still have the bean.”

She sighs as she looks at it. “They can leave Storybrooke.”

“Graham put out an Amber Alert,” Robin’s quick to say. “If they leave Storybrooke…”

“Robin, you’ve been down that road. You know how wooded it is and how densely populated it is.” She sighs as her eyes press closed. “That’s what makes Storybrooke, so… well-placed.” Robin only sighs in reply as his arm slides around her shoulders and he draws her back to him. “Besides, suppose someone does spot them… what then? What happens if Graham tries to cross the town line and  _can’t_.”

“Then… we’ll just have to get to him first.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” She asks. “We’re stuck here until…”

“Regina,” Graham’s voice cuts in. “We’re almost done here, but I need to… ask you a few questions before we can wrap up.” She looks up at him, blinking as his words register and she feels her shoulders tighten. “Perhaps we can go into the conference room for a little privacy?” She nods and stands, and immediately, her knees feel weak and wobbly, and before she can even reach for him, Robin’s hand slips around her waist and his other hand takes her hand to stabilize her. She smiles faintly and watches as Graham’s gaze shifts to Robin. “Uh, I need to talk to her alone, actually…”

“Oh…okay,” Robin murmurs, not letting go of her.

“Why?” She hears herself ask, her shoulders once again tightening. “Am I…” She pauses as her breath catches in her throat and the thinks of the times Graham accused her of using Henry to fill a void in her life, insinuating that she was only playing house and would soon tire of him. “Graham, do think that I have something to do with…”

“No,” Graham cuts in. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Would you tell me if it were?”

He sighs a little and nods. “There’s nothing to tell, Regina,” he says, his voice softer than it usually is when he addresses her. “It’ll only take a few minutes. I’ve already got Mr. Locksley’s version of things, now we just need yours. It’s standard procedure.”

“I’ll be right here, love,” Robin tells her as he gives her hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. “This is almost over.”

She nods again and takes a shaky step forward and then another, feeling oddly disconnected from herself as she follows Graham into the little conference room at the back of the office. Graham’s hand hovers just over the small of her back, not quite touching her as he guides her in, and then pulls out a chair. She stares at it for a moment, struggling to make the connection between what he’s doing and what she’s supposed to do, and wondering how any of this is actually going to help.

Of course, he was under the impression that it would…

Finally, she sits down across from him, blinking blankly as she watches his lips move, unable to make sense of anything he’s saying as she feels an overwhelming sense of deja vu.

She can easily remember the last time she felt this way–so lost and disconnected from everything–and she can easily remember the sound of her father’s gasp pulling her back into the present. She remembers how his eyes had widened as he stared at her, crouched down on the stable floor with Daniel’s lifeless body cradled in her arms, and she’d looked to him with a look of complete and utter disbelief. She didn’t hear what he said to her mother and she didn’t hear her mother’s reply–the only thing she could hear was her own voice in her head, telling herself again and again that this was her fault, that none of this would have happened if it hadn;’t been for her, that Daniel would still be alive if he hadn’t loved her…

“It’s my fault,” she murmurs. “This is all my fault.”

“Why would you say that, Regina?”

She shrugs. “I set this into motion.”

“No, you didn’t,” Graham insists in a firm and steady voice. “They’ve been looking of him since he–”

“I created a path that led directly to him.”

“What?”

“I wrote to them,” she tells him, looking up. “I wrote to them and I…” She sighs. “They obviously traced the letters back to Storybrooke, back to Henry…”

Graham takes a breath. “When did you write the letter?”

“There were a few,” she says, remembering the uneasiness she’d felt when she sent the first. “This winter, then… a couple in the spring.”

“And what did they say?”

Her eyes sink closed. “Nothing… nothing significant. I just wanted to make them feel…” She scoffs at how stupid it sounds. “I wanted to make them uncomfortable, I wanted to seem like…” Her voice trails off and her eyes press closed. “I wanted to make them feel like

“This winter,” Graham repeats. “As in… December? January?”

“After Christmas,” she tells him, “That’s when I sent the first one.”

“Well, they were on your trail long before that.”

She blinks as she looks up at him. “What?”

“A New York social worker filed a complaint in October saying that the Tremaines had been harassing him, and then, right before Thanksgiving, his office was broken into. Nothing was taken, but Henry’s file was disheveled. They obviously went through the file, and I’d assume they took pictures and…” His voice trails off and he takes a short breath before reaching out and placing his hand over hers. “They knew where Henry was long before you intervened. You didn’t do this, Regina, and… though I haven’t always been understanding of your choice to adopt a child, I… have to admit, you’ve been a good mother to him. It’s… changed you,” he says as a slight grin tugs onto his lips. “For the better.”

Swallowing hard, she nods, still not quite believing it and her eyes fall to his hand over hers–and for a moment, it strikes her that this interaction is possibly the most intimate and genuine they’d ever had.

They talk for awhile longer and, once again, she has trouble following along and staying in the moment. And then, suddenly, he stands, his hand pulling away from hers. “So, my advice to you is to go home, take Robin with you and… just wait. A lot of the time, in these sorts of situations, the kidnappers will call the child’s home for ransom or…” His voice trails off as her eyes widen a little. “I know waiting is hard for you, but…”

“I can’t just sit there, Graham. I can’t just… wait it out.”

“Try.”

“You know I can’t sit still.”

“Again,” he sighs. “ _Try_.” She nods as she stands. “I’ll call you in a little while to check in and let you know of any progress we’ve made, and…” His voice trails off and he hesitates for a moment. “And hopefully, I’ll be bringing your boy back to you.” He grins a little and nods, and his lips part as if he’s about to say something, but then an office knocks at the door and his attention shifts.

“CPS just faxed over the papers we requested.”

“That was quick.”

The officer shrugged. “Isn’t everything in New York fast?”

Graham nods and offers her a quick smile. “We’re going to find him, Regina.”

She follows him out and her eyes fall to Robin, sitting on the little couch against the back wall with Henry’s backpack. He rises when he sees her and almost immediately, his arms are folding around her as he draws her to his chest–and more than anything, she wishes she could find comfort in it.

“Are you free to go?”

“He wants me to go home and wait.”

Robin blinks. “Well, we both know you won’t be doing that.”

“He said he’ll call…”

“And, he can,” Robin insists. “I’ll have John or… someone go wait there and…” A smile draws onto her lips as she takes a half step back and looks up at him. “What?”

“You sound like you have a plan…”

He shrugs. “Not particularly, but we’re not going into this completely blind.”

“Aside from Neverland, what do we actually know?”

“Well,” he murmurs, taking a quick look around. “We know that Gold is somehow involved and we know they expect to open up a portal.” She nods and takes a breath, trying to piece together the crumbs he’s laid down. “Now, if Mrs. Tremaine was the here until three, no matter when they took Henry, Mr. Tremaine wasn’t going anywhere without her… and something tells me she’s the brains behind this operation.”

She nods. “Gold owns property all over town, so… I assume… they took him to one of those places.” She swallows as her eyes shift up to hers. “And it’s not like they’d take him back to Granny’s.”

“She’d rip them to shreds.”

“That’d be enjoyable consider what I’ve fantasized about doing to to them,” she scoffs, watching as a grin tugs onto his lips. “What?”

“Just…” He shakes his head. “I just saw a little glimmer of the fire I’ve been waiting to see.”

“Fire…”

Robin nods. “I think it’s time that… you let the Evil Queen out to play. I think it’s time for her to save the day.”

She blinks as her fingers curl into a fist and she feels an odd tingling sensation at the tips–something she’s felt more frequently in the past hour than she has in the past twenty-some-odd years odd the curse–and she feels her jaw again tightening. “She doesn’t need to be let out,” she says in a low voice. “She’s already out.”

_____

Her hands tremble was she leads Robin down into the vault–and somehow it seems odd to her to be doing this, to be attempting magic.

In the earliest years of the curse, she’d missed it to the point of withdrawal.

For her, magic had become an addiction. Though she’d resisted her ability at first, once she’d started she could hardly stop; and, at first, that had scared her. But then, little by little, she became more comfortable with it, she became accustomed to using it for anything and everything. It was means of transportation, it was a means of getting the things she wanted, and it was a means for revenge. It didn’t take much effort and the results instantaneous–and she found her craving the thrill that rippled through her whenever she used it.

And then, the curse had taken it away.

It had forced her to be without magic–and at first, it had been like ripping away her security blanket, but it taught her to rely on herself rather than magic and it taught her restraint. While magic wasn’t completely gone from the world she created in Storybrooke, she found little use for it–and she went years and years between uses…

And each time, in some way, had involved Henry.

She can still remember the day she’d given him up–the day she’d left him with his social worker, tearfully admitting that she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t be his mother no matter how much she’d wanted it. The pain in her chest had been unbearable–and everytime she closed her eyes, she’d picture his chubby cheeks and his hazel eyes watching her go, watching her give up on him.

Then, after a few days, she couldn’t manage it anymore, and found herself standing in the vault mixing a potion that would take it all away–that would make her forget those sweet hazel eyes.

She’d held the chalice to her lips and she’d breathed it in, closing her eyes–and she saw him, just as she always did. She felt hot tears burning in her eyes and her hands began to shake, and she’d dropped the chalice down onto the table–and just couldn’t do it. Because as painful as it was to remember him–to remember the little boy she’d loved and let go–somehow not remembering him seemed a far worse fate.

“Okay,” she breathes out. “It’s been… years since I’ve done this.”

“Can I help?” Robin asks, watching as she opens a cabinet and drops down to her knees, surveying the contents. “I want to help.”

“I need something of Henry’s. Something personal, something… undeniably his.”

“Alright,” Robin murmurs. “How about this…” She looks up, fully expecting to see Robin holding out Henry’s backpack to her–but instead, he’s holding out the little illustration of the Evil Queen that Henry drew the night before, and her breath catches in her chest as she takes it. “Now what?”

“Now, I… just mix everything and… hope it works.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well, magic isn’t… it’s not reliable here,” she tells him. “It’s a world without magic.”

“But you’ve done it before,” he tells her. “The bracelets you and Henry gave to me and Roland to get us over the town line, and the tea you gave me to make me remember.”

“I got lucky with those things,” she tells him, as she grabs a couple of dusty jars. “And those aren’t quite as complicated as this.” He blinks and she shakes her head. “It’s… hard to explain.”

“Then don’t,” he says easily. “If this fails, then… we’ll move on to Plan B.”

“You… have a Plan B?”

“Not yet,” he says easily as he holds out his hand to help her up. “But we’ll think of something.”

Nodding, she draws in a sharp breath and starts to mix the ingredients. She doesn’t say anything as she works, instead concentrating her attention on the potion, trying to channel a part of herself she’s long put into the past. Her fingers continue to tingle and it trails up her arms–and she takes that as a good sign, if only because it’s the only shred of hope she has that this will work–that magic will prevail–and it’ll lead her to her son. And then, this nightmare can all be over.

Finally, she takes a shaky breath and reaches for the comic–and for an all too brief moment, her shoulders relax and the comic floats up into the air. She smiles as her heartbeat quickens and Robin’s eyes widen as he watches it–and then, it falls back to the table, flat.

“What…?”

“It didn’t work,” she says, her voice barely audible as her eyes press closed and her shoulders slump forward.

“What if we try the backpack, or…”

“It should have worked,” she says with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter what the object is, as long as it belongs to the person you’re trying to find. The  _object_ wasn’t the problem, the problem was…”

“Not you.”

Her eyes roll as she looks to him, shaking her head. “Maybe I’m too emotional or…” She shrugs. “Or maybe my magic just isn’t strong enough.”

“Yet.”

Her throat tightens as tears well in her eyes–and she feels so helpless. Turning away from Robin, she pushes her hand through the front of her hair and draws in a sharp breath, finding it difficult to keep her lungs inflated and impossible to clear her head and think of the next step.

“Regina, this isn’t your fault,” Robin says, reaching out and touching his hand to her arm. “Magic isn’t even supposed to…” He stops and she turns to face him as his voice fades. “Would a portal be able to open in a place where magic doesn’t exist at all?”

“I… don’t know,” she murmurs as she shakes her head. “Why?”

“Because if magic is too weak  _here_ in a place where magic  _could_ be possible, then… we can pretty safely assume that the Tremaines haven’t left Storybrooke because if magic is difficult here, it’d be impossible elsewhere.” His eyes shift up to hers and he smiles gently. “Right?”

“Maybe,” she nods. “Just… where in Storybrooke? How are we supposed to find him?”

“Plan B,” Robin replies easily. “We form a good old fashioned search party.”

Her brow arches. “A search party…”

“Yes,” he says. “People who care about Henry… people who care about you.”

“Henry, maybe, but…”

“Regina,” he cuts in. “People in this town  _do_ care about you, whether you choose to believe that or not.” He sighs as he reaches for her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “And now really isn’t the time for you to get caught up in your self-deprecation.” A slight grin tugs onto her lips and she nods. “So, tell me, where might we find a map of this town?”

“Um, City Hall,” she tells him, taking in a short breath. “In my office.”

“Then, let’s get out of here and–”

“There’s a shortcut,” she cuts in as she motions to a darkened little enclave at the back of the vault. “Through there. It leads to my office.” Robin blinks at her and nods, reaching for Henry’s comic and tucking it into his back pocket–and then, just before taking her hand, he reaches for the crossbow he’d brought in that afternoon and straps it to his back–and a moment later, they’re in the tunnel toward her office.

When they arrive, she goes to a cabinet, pulling out a roll of maps–all slightly different, but all of Storybrooke. Robin calls Granny–and it’s not long before there’s a small group of people sitting around the table in her office. She’s touched when her secretary pops in, giving them all bottles of water and letting her know that she ordered dinner for John and Roland who’ve been camped out at her house since late that afternoon–and she seems genuinely touched when Regina thanks her.

Beneath the table, Robin gives her hand a reassuring squeeze as they explain that Gold is likely involved with the kidnapping and they’ve reason to believe the Tremaines wouldn’t leave Storybrooke, so the logical thought would be to search some of Gold’s more secluded properties.

“He owns this little building at the docks, it’s all boarded up,” Robin says, “And is usually easily looked past.”

“And he owns a farmhouse at the edge of the woods,” Regina tells him, pointing down at the map. “No one lives there, but he pays taxes on it and maintains it.”

“And it’s just far enough off the road where no one would notice any activity,” Archie says. “I’ll take Pongo and go–” He stops as Regina pulls her hand away from the map. “You keep doing that,” he says,  his voice soft and non-accusatory and she’s suddenly aware of her tingling fingers curled into her palm. “Are you…”

“She’s probably trying not to put her damned fist through a wall,” Granny cuts in, her brow creasing as she looks to Archie. “Her boy is missing. The fact that she hasn’t torn this damned town apart is a small miracle.” Taking a breath, she squares her shoulders. “Ruby and I will go down to the docks. I know a few people down there who supply our fish. If they’ve seen anything peculiar, they’d tell me.”

“Good…”

“Yeah,” Regina breathes out. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Granny replies with a wink. “We’re going to find him.” Regina smiles a bit as her cheeks flush–and for a moment, she feels an overwhelming sense of guilt. “And where will you two go…”

“This cabin,” Robin says, pointing to a spot on the map. “It’s… a long shot but…”

“It’s awfully far,” Archie murmurs. “Wouldn’t they…”

“Should someone call Graham?” Ruby cuts in, suddenly, looking between them. “Shouldn’t he…”

“He’s doing his job,” Granny says, her voice rising over her granddaughters. “The more people out there looking for Henry, the better.” Taking a breath she rises from the table and nudges Ruby’s arm. “Now, let’s go. We’re wasting time just sitting here talking about what we  _should_ do.”

“Thank you,” Regina’s quick to say as her eyes meet Granny’s.

“Thank me when we find that sweet boy of yours,” Granny tells her, offering her a quick wink before she and Ruby exit the office, with Archie and Pongo following behind.

“He’s lucky to have them all…”

“Regina, they didn’t just show up for  _Henry_. They showed up for you, too.”

She shrugs. “Because they don’t–”

“Because they’ve come to care about you.”

“They don’t know–”

“They  _do_ know you, Regina. They know the  _you_ that you are now.”

She bristles uncomfortably, not quite convinced, but deciding it doesn’t matter who thinks what or why–at least not now. Now, the only thing that matters is finding Henry.

“So, why the cabin…”

“Because I think that’s where he is.” Her eyes widen as she looks up at him, watching as he pulls Henry’s Evil Queen comic from his back pocket. “Look at this…”

“Robin., he drew that yesterday, long before–”

“No, look at the last one,” her tells her as he flips to the last page. “All the others are drawn nicely, and go along with the story… they’re traced in marker and colored in with crayon, and then… this one.”  Regina blinks down at the hastily drawn little cabin–drawn in pencil with no coloring or matching story. “Maybe he overheard something and…”

“Wanted to leave us a clue.”

“He’s a resourceful kid…”

She nods. “Yeah. He is,” she murmurs, looking down at the drawing as a soft smile tugs onto her lips as she feels a little flicker of hope that extinguished when the locator spell had failed, and taking a breath, she hopes that this time, she won’t be let down–and that she won’t let Henry down.

_____

Henry looks to the door for what feels like the thousandth time–and he takes a breath, shifting uncomfortably in the hard chair by the fireplace, trying to free his hands.

From where he sits, he can just barely see out the window. It’s getting late. The sun is getting lower and there’s an orange glow coming in from the window, and he knows it’ll be dark soon–and for an all too brief moment, he wonders if they didn’t find the drawing he’d left for them or that if they had, they hadn’t seen it as anything more than a drawing in a book of a lot of similar drawings…

She’ll come, he thinks to himself, pushing that thought away. She has to come…

_His eyes close as he tips his head up, already able to feel the misty rain–and all he can do is hope that the storm won’t last, too long. He burrows down into the too-warm winter coat that serves as his only real protection against the rain, and he closes his eyes, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach._

_On evenings like this, he’d normally have ducked into the library or a museum and wandered around until the weather cleared. In the library, he’d find a book and, if it weren’t too busy, he’d find a plush chair to cuddle up in and lose himself in the story, pretending that he were the main character and his life was anything other than what it was. Sometimes, he’d sneak up to the top floor with the book–a dusty room where old newspapers were held, a room no one ever seems to visit. There weren’t comfortable chairs up there, but there was a nice window with a thick ledge that he liked to sit on–and there, he could go completely unnoticed, or better yet forgotten._

_But today was a Sunday and everything closed early. So he’d returned to his usual spot–a thin sliver of an ally between two buildings where there was a little bit of an overhang, that he’d hoped would keep the rain out._

_He closes his eyes as thunder cracks above and he holds his breath, wishing that he were somewhere else–wishing there was something that could take him away from this moment. He thinks of Harry Potter–a favorite escape–and he thinks about how amazing it would have felt to get that letter from Hogwarts, a letter inviting him into a world of magic and acceptance, a world where he had friends and shelter, and a world away from the abusive tongues of the Dursleys._

_His eyes open as the rain begins to beat down, dripping down from the little overhang as large puddles begin to pool on the sidewalk in front of him, slowly but surely stretching toward him. Groaning, he draws up his legs and hugs them to his chest, trying to shrink himself into the little dry space that remains._

_For a while, he just sits there, watching as people pass him by, seemingly completely unaware of his presence and his gaze–and when when his stomach rumbles again, he reaches for his backpack and pulls out the last of his candy. He frowns at the half-eaten Kit-Kat bar and breaks off a piece, reminding himself that it’s better than nothing…at least it’s not cold out, he thinks to himself–that would be worse, that would be the only thing that would make this evening worse._

_Tears brim in his eyes as the rain beats down harder and his stomach rumbles again, disappointed that the candy only seemed to make him hungrier. Pressing his eyes closed, he hugged his legs tighter, resting his head on his knees–if the rain wasn’t going to stop, he hoped that at least sleep would come quickly…_

_“Well, isn’t this just great,” a voice muttered. He lifted his head to watch a woman drop down two bags at her feet on the wet sidewalk as she rummaged through her purse–and his eyes widened at the bakery box just within his reach. Catching his lip between his teeth, he pushed his arm through the sleeve of his coat, stretching out his hand for the box. “This couldn’t be any worse,” she said, as she lifted a phone from her bag and looked at it, shifting her foot in front of the box._

_“At least it’s not cold,” he murmured, not necessarily to her, but more as a reminder to himself–but nonetheless, she flinched and looked down at him with wide eyes and parted lips. He felt a grin tug onto his lips as he looked up at her–she looked nice, he thought, after all, she was the first person who’d ever noticed him there, stuffed in his spot between the buildings, that had to mean she was a nice person, or at least, a caring one. “It’d would be worse if it were cold out and raining.”_

_“Oh,” she breathed out. “Yeah, I… I guess it would be.” She blinked a couple of time as she looked at him, then looked to the tight space around him, taking in his blanket and and backpack, his winter coat and the way he hugged his legs to himself. “Trying to stay dry?”_

_“I guess so,” he’d told her, as he looked away, feeling oddly embarrassed as his stomach rumbled loudly._

_For a moment, she didn't’ say anything; instead, she just stood there, staring at him–and a little grin edge onto his lips at the realization that she didn’t seem in a rush to go away, and he wondered if she’d share whatever was in the bakery box at his feet._

_Then, she bent down. “I… I’m… I’m wondering if you like hot cocoa,” she asked, catching him off guard as he nodded._

_“With cinnamon.”_

_“Hot cocoa with cinnamon,” she says, as a smile stretches over her lips. “Would you like to get some?” His eyebrows arch at the question and he’s quick to nod, smiling as she reaches out and takes his hand. “Come on. If we run fast, we’ll barely get wet,” she told him as she tugged him up and toward the diner across the street…_

She’ll come,” he tells himself again. A little grin edges onto his lips as he thinks of his mom, bursting into the cabin and taking them all by surprise as a fireball floated up from her hand. He giggles to himself as he pictures their faces–a mix of shock and horror–as she blasted them back to wherever they’d come from… like a scene from a comic book.  She’ll be here….

He giggles quietly to himself–and then suddenly, he’s aware that the conversations have halted and everyone’s eyes have shifted to him. He shrinks back in his chair and blinks a couple of time before looking down a his lap–and though he’s not looking at them, he can feel hard eyes watching him.

“What’s he laughing about over there?” Mr. Tremaine asks.

“Who knows?”

“Does it matter?” Mr. Gold asks, sighing in frustration. “You said you have proof…”

Henry looks up and nervously, his eyes slide across the room, watching as the Tremaine’s talk to Mr. Gold, assuring him that their plan will work. Gold sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He doesn’t look convinced, and somehow, that’s amusing.

“Of course we do,” Mr. Tremaine says, sounding a bit unsure… and he wonders what proof they need or why it matters.

Gold’s eyes narrow skeptically and Henry watches as the Tremaines exchange looks–and likes that this man seems to make them nervous, and decides to take it as a good sign. He doesn’t know though, if it truly is. He’s only ever seen Mr. Gold in passing–sometimes at Granny’s or walking down Main Street, and sometimes, he’ll catch his gaze as he walks by his shop. It’s usually then that his mom’s hand tightens around his, tugging him a little more quickly as they pass–and though, Robin likes to take him and Roland to the various shops along Main Street, they’ve never once stopped in at the pawn shop.

Henry’s stomach drops, at that thought–and once more, he reminds himself that his mom is on her way… that his will all be over soon.

“If you want my help,” Gold says flatly. “I need proof that you know where my son is. It’s as simple as that.”

Henry watches as Mrs. Tremaine nods to her husband and he feels his shoulders stiffen as he watches him rise from the table. He goes to a suitcase by the door, smiling smugly at Henry as he lifts it and unzips it. Reaching inside, he rummages through until he lifts a sketchbook from it–a leather bound one, not so unlike the storybook of the Enchanted Forest that he has at home.

“Here…”

“And what’s this?” Mr. Gold asks. “Doodles.”

“Sketches.”

“From Neverland…” Mr. Gold blinks and Henry feels his eyes widen– Neverland?, he wonders to himself. The place where Peter Pan lives? He sighs a little and he watches as Mr. Gold takes the book. “A fairy gave it to us.”

“A fairy…” Henry blinks as Gold looks between them–and then, his breath hitches in throat as he looks down a they page. “Bae,” he murmurs.

“That’s him, isn’t it? The son you’ve been waiting to be reunited with?”

“It’d be an even swap…”

“One boy for another,” Mrs. Tremaine adds as her eyes shift to Henry.

“And why should I believe it’d be as easy as that?” Mr. Gold asks, cooly, as he he looks up from the book. “Why make the swap at all? What’s in it for you?” Again, the Tremaine’s exchange looks and Gold’s eyes narrow. “You need  _me_ ,” he says. “You need the Dark One.”

A little gasp escapes Henry, but no one seems to notice it.

“We could… call it an alliance,” Mrs. Tremaine tells him, sounding suddenly nervous.

“An alliance…”

“Sure, why not?”

“And, suppose I agreed…”

“It’d get you your son back…”

Mr. Gold nods. “Assuming this sketch is real.”

“How else would we have known what he looked like?”

Henry watches as Gold’s eyes narrow and he leans in a little, looking between them. “Yes, that’s a very good question,” he says. “How  _do_ you know what my son looks like?” Again, they exchanged glances as a little, almost mechanical sounding laugh escapes Gold, sending a little shiver down Henry’s spine. “Suppose I agree to this,” he says again. “We can’t just… drive to Neverland.”

“No…”

“We’ve figured that out,” Mr. Tremaine says, too confidently as he rises from the table.

“Have you now?” Gold asks, craning his neck as Mr. Tremaine goes back to the suitcase and flips it open. “Something from that fairy you mentioned, no doubt.”

Mr. Tremaine huffs as he pushes aside the contents of the suitcase–and then, as his fingers slip beneath the lining, his breath catches. Frantically, he pushes his hand deeper, his eyes widening as a thin layer of sweat begins to form at his brow. “Where is it?” He barks, his eyes shifting to Henry. “Where the hell is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The bean!”

“What bean?” Henry asks, blinking and scrunching up his nose. “And why would you keep beans in your suitcase? That’s gross.”

“You know very well  _what bean_ you little shit! You took it. I know you did. That’s what you were grinning about before, wasn’t it?”

Henry’s eyes widen. “Even if I did know what bean you were talking about,” he begins. “How would I steal it from your suitcase, which is all the way over there on the other side of the room, when I’m all the way over here, tied up on the opposite side of the room?”

A snicker escapes Gold as Mrs. Tremaine sighs in annoyance and pushes herself up from the table. “You’re just not looking–”

“I am looking,” Mr. Tremaine snaps. “It’s not my fault that little…” His voice trails off. “He’s always been like this, more work than he’s worth.”

Mrs. Tremaine’s eyes narrow. “Well, if it hadn’t been for his so-called mother–”

“She’s not my  _so-called mother_ ,” Henry cuts in. “She’s my mother.”

“Well, whatever she is, she ruined a perfectly good plan to–” Her voice halts a she shoves her hand into the lining of the suitcase, her eyes widening as she discovers the same thing her husband did a moment before. “I don’t believe this.”

A grin edges onto Henry’s lips–and while he’s not entirely sure what his mom messed up for them, he’s glad that she did.

“So, you’re telling me that… all of this has been for nothing,” Gold says, his voice suddenly icy. “You’ve no way to open a portal…”

“We do!”

“But you don’t,” Henry says, his grin gowning more confident. “You just said you don’t.” Both look to him, eyes widening and he feels himself growing more daring. “You might as well just give up now.”

“Give up…”

“Or you’ll have my mom’s wrath to deal with.”

“And what makes you so sure  _your mom_  will save the day.”

“Because that’s what she does,” Henry says simply.

“You make it sound like she’s some sort of hero,” Gold says, rising up from his seat at the table. “Like, she’s… a savior or some kind. No,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s nothing more than a pawn in  _my_ game.”

“She is a hero.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…”

Henry shrugs. “Maybe  _you_ wouldn’t…”

Gold’s eyes narrow. “You’re so much like her.”

“Thank you.”

“But just like her, you’re wrong about this,” Gold says. “If I’ve a chance to get to my son, I’m not going to let  _your mother_  get in my way.” He grins as his eyes shift to the Tremaine’s. “The bean couldn’t have just gotten up and walked away…”

“No…”

“You might be the Dark One,” Henry cuts in. “But if you’re so powerful, you wouldn’t have needed my mom to get to your son.” His brow arches as Gold looks back to him with wide, indignant eyes. “And you certainly wouldn’t need the two of them.”

Taking a breath, he grins–and once more, his eyes shift to the door and no one seems to notice the footsteps he hears near the window…

She’s coming, he thinks as he settles back and watches as the Tremaines bicker about the missing bean. It’s almost over…

_____

Regina looks at the cabin just down a stretch of  the dirty road–and her stomach flops as a thousand worst case scenarios flash before her eyes.

She thinks of Henry, mostly, and the terrified look he’d given her at every mention of his foster parents. She can still easily see him, sitting across from her in the booth of the little New York city diner she’d taken him too, his eyes wide as his voice shook as asked her if she was from Child Protective Services and would be sending him back to his foster family. Her heart had broken at the realization that whatever life he’d run away from would be one that was worse than sleeping alone in the rain in a big, dangerous city. He’d pleaded silently with her not to call, not to send him back to him–and it’d been in that moment, she’d promised to protect him. She hadn’t said it, not with words, but her intent was there–and Henry knew it. She’d asked him to trust her, and he did. Months later, he’d told her that there was just something about her, that he knew she was a good person and that she wouldn’t hurt him. He’d called it a super power.  At the time, it’d made her heart swell with something that’d been completely indescribable, but completely wonderful–and it filled her with the belief that maybe she could be the person he thought she was, that she could be the hero he believed she was.

And she couldn’t help but feel like she’d let him down, like she’d broken that promise, like she’d failed him.

All because of her own pride and need for vengeance.

“Come on,” Robin murmurs as his hand catches hers and gives it a tight squeeze. “Let’s go get him.”

She nods and draws in a breath, letting her eyes momentarily sink closed, and she hopes that it’s not too late.

As they near, they can hear two voices arguing–voices they assume belong to the Tremaines–and she feels a twinge at her core. Robin takes her hand and leads her around the back of the cabin–and he rolls his eyes as he quips about how they hadn’t even bothered to lock the deadbolt.

She tries to smile, but she can’t–and her breath catches in her lungs as Robin slowly pushes open the door. For a moment, they linger there, listening. She watches as Robin sends a quick text–likely to Graham or the others–and once more she hopes that this won’t somehow make it worse…

And then, almost as soon as they start forward, Robin holds up his hand and stops them.

“Did you hear that?” A man’s voice says

“It’s probably just the wind…”

“I know what the  _wind_ sounds like…”

“Sometimes cabin’s like this just make noises,” Henry says–and her heart swells at the sound of his voice. “It’s because the ground underneath is moving.”

“Always such a smart ass…”

Regina’s eyes shift to Robin, watching as he readies his bow. She takes a breath and the tingling at her finger tip–and for the first time in longer than she can remember, she feels a warmth at her palm. Her thoughts shift to Henry and his sad scared eyes, and the tingling intensifies. Her jaw tightens as she thinks of how amazed he’d been by even the smallest of gestures and she thinks the little mentionings of neglect and abuse he casually tossed out as if they were nothing, as if they were normal–and as her eyes open she watches a little ball of fire rises up against her palm.

Robin’s brow arches as he looks from her to fireball and back again–and then, a smile edges onto his lips, his eyes shining with a pride and confidence she wished she could feel.

“I think someone’s here…”

“May I remind you, we’re on private property and in the middle of nowhere and…”

Gold sighs with frustration as Robin and Regina take cautious steps forward, careful not to let the floorboards creak. “I can’t help but feel like you’re just avoiding the–”

“Did you lock the door?” Mrs. Tremaine snaps.

“Of course…”

“No, he didn’t,” Henry’s voice cuts in.

“And how would you–”

“You didn’t lock the deadbolt, and that’s the  _real_ lock.”

Regina watches a little grin edges onto Robin’s lips–and it occurs to her that this is something Robin’s taught her son and a for an all too brief moment, she’s grateful for all of the Saturdays she’s had to work, grateful for Robin’s influence and the self-assurance it had instilled.

“How do you–”

“Everyone knows that,” Henry cuts in–and it occurs to her that he doesn’t sound afraid. “Just like everyone knows a slip knot isn’t how you bind someone’s wrists.”

As they near, Regina watches as the Tremaine’s exchange looks and Mr. Gold’s eyes sink shut–and then, there’s a mad dash toward Henry. Mr. Tremaine reaches him first, pulling him up from the chair and holding him back against his chest.

“Hurt him, and I will  _end_ you,” Regina hears herself say, suddenly feeling a burst of confidence as her eyes meet Mr. Tremaine.

“Louie,” Mrs. Tremaine sighs as he looks sharply toward Regina. “Ignore her. She’s powerless.”

“No, she’s not,” Henry says as his eyes meet hers. “She has  _magic_.”

“Not in this world,” Gold interjects as his eyes shift and narrow Regina. “She’s no one here.”

“That’s not true,” Henry insists. “She’s the Evil Queen  _and_ a hero.”

“She can’t be both. Not all magic is dark.”

“This isn’t that stupid wizard book that you–”

“I know,” Henry cuts in, nodding as his eyes slide to Robin and Regina and a little grin edges onto his lips. “It’s better.”

Regina musters a smile as her eyes meet Henry’s and she suddenly feels more determined than she was even a moment before. She can feel her magic bubbling up inside of her and she’s ready for a fight–ready to prove that her magic doesn’t have to be dark, ready to prove that she can be the hero her son believes she is. Taking a tentative step toward them, her eyes shift to Gold and Mrs. Tremaine and once more she feels that warm tingling at her fingertips. “So, you know,” she says cooly at the realization that Gold has his memories, that he not only knows her as the mayor by as the Evil Queen. “You know who I am. You know the monster you made me into…”

A sinister little grin edges onto Gold’s lips. “A necessary evil…”

She nods. “Maybe, but my son is right. I  _can_ be both the Evil Queen and a hero.”

Gold laughs. “You’re only as powerful as I allow.”

“Interesting,” Regina murmurs as she lifts her palm. “Because from where I’m standing you have  _no power,_  and I have it all.” Her brow arches up as a small fireball lifts up over her palm. “Now, give me my son back.”

“Louie, don’t… don’t listen to her,” Mrs. Tremaine says, her voice cool. “We’ve come too far…”

Her eyes shift to Mr. Tremaine, watching his eyes widen. “Let him go, and you get to live.”

“She’s bluffing…”

“Am I?”

“And, even if she is,” Robin cuts in as he steps forward and lifts his bow, steadying it against his shoulder. “I’m not. Let him go before  _I_  make you wish you had.”

“And  _you_ are?”

“He’s Robin Hood,” Henry supplies, grunting as Mr. Tremaine’s arm tightens around him.

“Someone who never misses a shot,” Robin answers easily. “And someone who has everything you want.” Gold’s eyes narrow and Mrs. Tremaine turns sharply toward him as he pulls the bean from his pocket. “This  _is_ what you’re after, right?” Gold’s eyes widen as they focus on the bean at Robin’s fingertips. “So, I suggest you take the easy route and let the boy go or you can be swallowed into an an unknown abyss to god-only-knows where.”

“There is no easy route. None of this has been easy.”

“No?” Regina asks, her eyes shifting to Gold. “So, a magic bean that opens up a portal to Neverland… or wherever you think you need to go, that’s not the easy way?” Her eyes narrow as her heartbeat quickens as the dots start to connect she’d been unable to even see before. “Because the hard way would be manipulating someone into casting once-thought impossible curse, damning an entire population to an unknown realm just… just to… try to prove that you’re not the coward that you are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gold returns.

“But the question is, why do you need  _them_? What’s in–” She stops as she looks between the Tremaines, and hatred practically seethes from her as she looks back to Gold. “Oh, I get it. Your  _son_ is in Neverland.”

“And I won’t let  _you_ of all–”

“Me,” Regina cuts in, laughing in spite of it all. “You’re right. You’re not going to  _let me_  do anything because you  _can’t_.” She shrugs as her eyes slide to Robin, still standing steadily beside her with his bow drawn up. “You’re powerless. Just like you always have been. That’s why you need these two…”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“No, I think I do. I’m not going to let you trade  _my_ son for yours.”

At that, Mrs. Tremaine laughs. “As if that’s the only trade…”

“Isn’t it?”

“He’s just one piece of it,” Mrs Tremaine says in a cool even voice. “And I have worked too hard to get what  _I want_ out of this.” She laughs as her shoulders square. “I remember you as a little girl, you know. So sickly sweet and stupidly brave…” She scoffs. “And those pathetic little notes you sent prove that you haven’t changed much. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you really spawned that little shit.”

Regina’s jaw tightens–and then, almost involuntarily her fingers begin to curl and she watches as Mrs. Tremaine swallows hard, her eyes falling to Regina’s clenched fist. “I don’t care about your goals or your motives. I don’t care who you owe or what you think you deserve, but you will not use my son to get it.”

“Careful, Regina,” Mrs. Tremaine murmurs, her voice husky as Regina’s fist tightens. “You might show him a side of yourself he can’t forget…”

“Unless she casts another curse,” Mr. Tremaine adds unnecessarily.

“Let him go…”

“Don’t you dare, Louie. She’s bluffing. She’s all smoke and mirrors.” She gasps as Regina’s fist tights and momentarily, Regina’s eyes slide to Henry, watching the way he’s watching the scene unfold. Taking a breath, she grips harder and Mrs. Tremaine gasps as her feet start to lift from the ground. “You wouldn’t,” she insist as she struggles to keep her voice. “He’d never forget it. He’d never forgive it.”

“Let him go.”

For a moment, nothing happens. They’re all at a stalemate–and then Gold, makes a move. He tries to prove his way out from around the table and before she can even consider what he’s doing or why, Robin reaches into his pocket and tosses down the bean. A series of gasps ripple through the room as gust of air pushes through and the floor opens up, swirling wildly as a portal opens.

For a moment, Regina just stares at him. In all the years of the curse, he’d kept a low profile. He ran his shop and collected his rent, making threats and posturing his pseudo power, and just waiting it out. Deep down, she’d always knew that there was more to more to the curse than she was willing to admit–and though she believed for a short time it was her way of exacting vengeance, that it was her way of finding some semblance of happiness, it hadn’t taken her very long to realize that wasn’t at all the case.

She’d been played, and she was miserable.

When she looked in the mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. In truth, it’d been a long time since she had–and when she tried to figure just where things had changed, when she’d changed, she couldn’t help but remember those desperate moments when she’d summoned Rumplestiltskin in hopes of bringing back her one chance at love. He’d duped her them–making her believe it was possible, twisting her intentions and feeding her poisonous thoughts until she’d slowly but surely believed them.

He’d made her into someone she wasn’t simply because he’d been too much of a coward to do his own bidding. She’d been his pawn–sometimes willing, sometimes not–and it’d been the insecurities he’d planted deep within her that kept her up at night, that told her she wasn’t good enough, that told her she didn’t know how to love. Those insecurities had become a part of her, they’d formed the Evil Queen. They’d forced her to give up Henry once and they’d forced the situation they were in now. Had not been for Rumplestiltskin the Tremaine’s never would have found Henry, and they certainly wouldn’t have the opportunity to use him as a bargaining chip.

Her jaw tightens as she watches the portal swirl, edging closer to where Gold stands–and then, a with a quick flick of her wrist, Gold’s feet fall out from underneath him and tumbles into the portal. Regina’s eyes widen as he falls, her heart skipping a beat as her stomach flops–and for a brief moment, she wonders if she went too far. But then, she feels a sense of relief wash over her. Her hands shake as she turns back to Mrs. Tremaine, arching her eyebrow and almost daring her to continue.

“You still think she’s bluffing?” Robin asks as he looks to Mr. Tremaine who’s still starting wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the portal. “Do you think  _I_  am?”

“Let my son go,” Regina says in an even voice. “Or you can join the Dark One in Neverland with… who only knows what.”

“I can’t… we can’t go there without…”

“Shut up,” Mrs. Tremaine snaps, her voice strained. “Shut. Up.”

“I don’t think…”

“Jump,” she yells. “Take the boy and  _jump_. It’s  _closing_! This is the  _last_ chance!”

Regina’s heart clenches as her eyes shift to Henry and before she can react, an arrow flies from Robin’s bow, striking Mr. Tremaine’s shoulder. He screams out and grasps at the arrow–and Henry slips free. He runs toward her she drops down to her knees. Her arms fold around Henry and everything else blurs away as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, and she’s only vaguely aware of Mr. Tremaine stumbling back into portal and pulling his wife down with him.

The portal closes as their screams dull–and the cabin door opens.

“I knew you’d find me,” Henry says, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You found my clue!”

“Robin did, actually,” she says as tears well in her eyes. “How did you…”

Henry doesn’t let her finish. Instead, he pushes himself forward and back into her arms. She pulls him up against her, cupping the back of his head as she tries to hold him as close to possible, and then as his lips press to her cheek–and, suddenly, everything feels  _different_.

For a moment, everything stands still–frozen, static, and unchanging.

And then, reality bursts forward. Henry’s kiss is like a shock–extending past the two of them and rippling out in the room. The lights flicker as a sudden gust of wind sweeps through the room, followed by a series of gasps from the doorway.

Henry pulls back, startled as he looks around them with wide eyes–and she feels a smile curl onto her lips as she slowly begins to understand what happened–that a true love’s kiss has broken her curse, that her son’s love for her was strong enough to undo the darkest and most powerful curse ever wielded.

“ _Henry_ ,” she breathes out, her voice catching in her throat. “Oh, my god, Henry.  _You_ did it!”

“Did… what?” He asks, swallowing hard as he looks around them. “What did I do?”

“You broke the curse,” she tells him as she draws him back to her chest, holding him tightly as her heart races and she tries to focus on the fact that she has him back and that they can finally move forward. Her eyes close as tears well in her eyes, pushing out from the sides, as the rest of the world fades away…

_____

She’d only been vaguely aware of their audience–Ruby and Granny, Archie and Graham–all there to witness the breaking of the curse. She hadn’t paid much attention to what happened immediately after, but Robin had huddled in the door with them for a long time–and finally, she’d heard Granny’s voice insisting they should “let her alone” and give her a little space with her son. Graham had argued and Ruby grappled to understand–but somehow, Robin managed to convince them to let it go for the evening, promising that they’d deal with it in the morning and reminding them they all had a lot of catching up to do.

His arm had folded around her as he guided her and Henry back to the truck. Henry recovered quickly, chattering on at how brave he was because he knew she’d save him, and retelling all the details as if he hadn’t been kidnapped at all, but had been on some grand adventure. She listened and nodded, but all the while, all she could think of was how close she’d come to losing him that day–how close she’d come to losing everything.

“I’m going to go upstairs and take a shower,” Henry tells them as they step into the foyer. “I smell like smoke from the cabin.”

“There are worse things to smell like,” Robin teases as he tousels his hair.

Henry giggles a little and shrugs his shoulders and a moment later, he disappears up the stairs–and finally, Regina feels her shoulders slump forward as the emotion from the day finally catches up to her. Robin smiles as he turns toward her, folding his arms around her as he pulls her against his chest, and for just a moment, she lets herself melt into him.

“I can’t believe it’s over…”

“I know,” he murmurs back. “Henry broke the curse. Who would have thought?”

“He’s… he’s kissed me before,” she says in quiet voice. “I don’t understand what was different about this time.”

“Maybe it was just… the perfect mix of things.”

“Maybe…” Taking a breath, she pulls back to look at him. “And now, I have to deal with it.”

“And you will.”

She nods. “I… half expected to be greeted at the door by an angry mob with… I don’t know… pitchforks and torches, demanding I be burned at the stake or…”

“I think, right now, everyone’s just… coming to terms with it.”

“So, you’re telling me I have something to look forward to?”

“Maybe,” he murmurs back as a grin tugs up from the corner of his mouth. “But whatever happens, you won’t deal with it alone.” She nods and draws in a breath as his fingers rub absently at her hip. “You have Henry, and you have me, and you have Rol–”

“Oh, god, Roland,” she breathes out, her throat suddenly dry at the thought of Roland knowing her true identity and being afraid of her. “He remembers–”

“He remembers… lots of nights sitting around campfires, telling stories and… swimming in rivers and…” Robin laughs as he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. “He never knew you as the Evil Queen, so tomorrow, when you see him, he’s going to look you the way he always has. You’ll still be Henry’s mom and my girlfriend, you’ll still be the woman who can get him to eat strange food like red peppers and tofu… and you’ll still be the woman who’s given him the closest thing he’s ever known to a mother’s love.”

“I don’t think I could stand it if–”

“He won’t fear you. I promise.”

Nodding, she takes a step back in. “I thought he was supposed to be here, with John…”

“When we found Henry, John took him home. He thought it’d be better if–” His voice falters and she sighs with understanding. “Roland might not be afraid of you, but John is a little concerned about… well…”

Her brow arches. “Does he think I’ll put a curse on you?”

“More like incinerate me.”

“Ah…”

Robin shakes his head. “I could bring Roland back here and–”

“No,” she says, taking a breath as she looks to the stairs, her thoughts shifting back to Henry. “No, you need to have some alone time with your son and… I think I need some alone time with mine.”

“Okay,” Robin nods. “I’ll be over tomorrow morning and… we can make butterbeer pancakes for the boys and figure this thing out.”

“Butterbeer pancakes…” she repeats, her brow arching. “That’s…a very specific breakfast.”

“It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“That’s odd.”

“Well, I found this book and I thought the boys would get a kick…”

Shaking her head, she laughs. “Do I even want to know where you  _found_ it?”

“Probably not.”

A slight grin edges onto her lips and for a moment, she’s thankful for the normalcy of it. “So, butterbeer pancakes before the lynch mob arrives?”

Robin sighs. “There isn’t going to be a lynch mob.” Leaning in, he presses another kiss to her forehead. “Regina, if you need anything–or if you just want to talk or have someone talk to you until you fall asleep–call me. Don’t hesitate.”

“I will.”

“Promise?” She nods. “Okay,” he breathes out as he takes a half step back. “I love you…”

“I love you, too,” she returns as he takes another, wider step back. “Thank you for… everything today. I don’t think I could have–”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he cuts in. “Give Henry my love, alright?”

She nods. “I will.”

He offers her a wink and wave before leaving, and from the window by the door, she watches as he pulls out of the driveway. Taking a breath, she locks the door and turns off the light, feeling vaguely dizzy as she considers what the next day will bring.

Ascending the stairs, she goes to her room and changes into a pair of pajamas before taking off her makeup–and somewhere in the process, she decides the best way to tackle whatever is coming at her is to do it head-on. She doesn’t quite work out the details but by the time Henry turns off the shower, she’s resolved to hold a town hall meeting the following afternoon.

“Mom?” Henry asks as he pokes his head into her room. “I know it’s been kind of a long day, but… can you read to me tonight?”

“Of course,” she breathes out as she looks at him through the mirror of her dressing table, smiling at new pair of pajamas featuring the Incredible Hulk flexing his muscles in various poses–a pair that Robin picked up the other day for both boys, insisting he couldn’t pass up at buy-one, get-one sale.

Henry waits at the threshold and reaches for her hand, leading her to his bedroom. She watches as he climbs into his bed and situates himself, and she can’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief when he reaches for Harry Potter instead of the leather bound storybook on his nightstand.

“I barely remember where we left off,” she murmurs as she slides into bed beside him and watches as he opens the book toward the marked page. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs back as he looks down at the page. “C-can I ask you something?”

“Sure…”

“Am I going to school tomorrow?”

“Oh, well… I think a lot of people are going to be taking a few days off.”

“Probably,” Henry says, nodding as he looks back to the book. “It’s probably for the best.”

“A lot of people have… a lot to work through and figure out and…”

“And I’m supposed to have a math test tomorrow.” She watches as a little grin edges onto his lips and a soft chuckle bubbles up from her core as she bends her head to kiss the top of his head. “So… you… you really have magic.” She nods as he looks up at her. “That’s… really cool.”

“It can be.”

“Can be?”

“Well, it can be dangerous, too.”

“Like what happened at the cabin?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she murmurs back, taking a breath as she combs her fingers through his wet hair. “Did you… want to talk about that? Maybe instead of reading?”

For a moment, Henry hesitates and then, he closes the book in his lap. “Where did they go?”

“Neverland, I think…”

“Like, as in, Peter Pan?” She nods and a little grin edges back onto his lips. “Maybe the crocodile will eat them.”

“That’s… a possibility.”

“Are there stories about Neverland in that book?”

“I don’t know,” she answers. “There could be. We could look…”

“Maybe later…” Henry murmurs back. “I just… wondered what happened to them.”

“Are you… upset that…”

“No,” he cuts in, shaking his head as his eyes meet hers. “I’m glad they’re somewhere else.”

“They are… definitely somewhere else.”

“And they can’t come back?” She shakes her head and Henry takes a breath. “Good.” For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just nuzzles back against her. Her arm stretches around his shoulders and she cuddles him close, and for awhile, it feels like he’s drifting to sleep. “Mom, can I ask you something else?”

“Sure…”

“Can you…do magic tricks and stuff?”

Blinking, she lifts her head. “Magic tricks?”

“Yeah, like… you know… the cool stuff magicians do.”

“Well, I’ve… never tried to pull a rabbit out of a hat or pull a bouquet of flowers from my sleeve, but I do know a few tricks.”

Henry brightens and her chest tightens as he smiles. “Can you show me one?”

“You… want me to do a magic trick?” He nods and she sighs, her heart fluttering as she tries to think of something as he sits up and watches her expectantly. “Okay, well… I am a bit rusty,” she murmurs as she pulls away from him and sits up a little straighter, drawing in a long breath as she brings her hand up, curling it toward herself as her closes and she conjures the image of a cupcake–and then, once she has it, she blows the tips of her fingers, slowly opening her eyes as her hand uncurls.

Henry gasps as the cupcake appears, hovering over her flattened palm. “Wow… is it… is it real?”

“Take it,” she tells him. “See for yourself.”

Slowly, he reaches out, gasping a little as his fingers come into contact with a very real and very large cupcake. “This is amazing,” he whispers as he examines it. “It’s real!”

“I know.”

“Can I eat it?”

Laughing she nods, flicking her wrist and shrinking it down to a bite-size version. “Now you can.”

Henry blinks. “I’m not even mad that you made it into a littler one! That’s so  _cool_ that you can shrink things!” She laughs a little as Henry bites into the cupcake, his eyes widening as he looks up at her, looking stunned and amazed that it’s real. Shaking her head, she wipes a little frosting from the corner of his mouth and he giggles as he settles back against his pillow. “What else can do you?”

“Well… I’m a little bit rusty, but I can do all sorts of things.”

Henry nods and takes another, smaller bite of the cupcake. “Can you enchant stuff?” She nods as his eyes shift to hers and she can see the excitement beginning to bubble up behind his eyes. “So, you could… make all my action figures come alive and they could–”

“How about we discuss  _that_ another time,” she cuts in, chuckling softly at his excitement as she thinks of the absolute chaos that would ensue if she brought his action figures to life and allowed them to battle bad guys and… do whatever it was that an eight-year-old imagined his action figures could do. “It’s late,” she adds as she stretches her arm across his shoulders. “So, how about we save some excitement for tomorrow and do a little bit of reading before bed.”

“We have had a lot of excitement today,” Henry tells her, his voice suddenly calmer and sincere as he pops the remainder of the cupcake into his mouth. “I’m glad I’m home now.”

“I am, too.”

“I know I said I was brave, but…” Henry’s voice trails off as he cuddles into her and he takes a  breath. “What they wanted to do sounded really scary.”

“I bet it did,” she murmurs as her chest clenches and she momentarily thinks of what might have happened had Robin not found Henry’s drawing or had she listened to Graham’s advice and just gone home. “But it’s over now, and… what they wanted to happen didn’t happen.” She takes a breath and pushes away the thoughts, reminding herself not to dwell on what didn’t happen or what might have happened and to focus on the here and the now. “Okay,” she murmurs as she draws in a long breath and lets a smile pull onto her lips. “How about a little more Harry Potter?” Henry nods as she reaches for the book and her heart skips a beat as he cuddles closer and waits patiently for her to begin.

And for just a little while, everything feels completely normal again. Henry laughs as they read a section about Fred and George Weasley’s joke shop and she doesn’t think about what the next day will bring them–she doesn’t think about how angry people are going to be or how she’ll possibly defend the things she’s done; and when Henry nuzzles closer to her as Harry prepares to return to the Dursley’s for yet another summer, she finds herself smiling softly as a sort of serenity washes over her, and she finds herself thinking–in a fleeting, passing thought–that everything will work itself out, however it’s meant to.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall out of the curse breaking--and the final chapter :)

Regina takes a breath as she feels her eyelids twitch, and though she’s not quite ready to wake up and face a new day–particularly the one awaiting her–for just a brief, feeling moment, she feels completely at ease.

Henry is tucked beneath her arm, his head resting against his shoulder as he sleeps–safe and secure. Every now and then, she feels him move–shifting himself, but never quite pulling away from her–and it makes her smile. She does her best not to think of how close she’d come to losing him mere hours before, and she does her best not to consider what that would have been like–for his shoes not to be scattered on the stairs or his toothbrush creating a little puddle on the counter, for his jacket not to be tossed carelessly across the back of a chair in the living room and the coffee table not to be littered with his favorite comic books. In months since Henry had come to live with her, he’d turned her world upside down– he gave her life purpose and meaning, and he added so much life to an otherwise lifeless existence.

She smiles softly to herself as she cuddles him a little closer, hugging her arm around him and nuzzling her cheek against his hair.He’s warm and his rhythmic breaths remind her that he’s really there with her, that she didn’t lose him and that no matter what happens when the sun rises, she’ll still have Henry–and really, that’s all that matters to her.

Drawing in a long, deep breath, she breathes in in the soft smell of his shampoo–it’s a distinctive soapy smell mixed together with a subtle hint of coconut and pineapple.

 _And pine_ …?

Blinking her eyes open, she lifts her head and squints, trying to focus in the dark–and, just barely, she can see Robin, hovering at the threshold of Henry’s door.

“Hey… what are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to be back until morning.”

“Well, it is morning,” Robin whispers as he comes into the room. “Technically.”

“It’s still dark.”

“I know, and I didn’t want to wake you, but I–”

“What time is it?”

“About half past four,” he says, lowering himself down onto the edge of the bed. “I just wanted you to know I was here, in case you woke up and h–”

“You haven’t slept,” she cuts in, lifting her head as she pulls herself up a little to get a better look. “You haven’t slept since you left here.”

Robin draws in a tentative breath. “No…”

“Robin…”

“But the important thing is that you and Henry were able to get some sleep,” he tells her, grinning softly as his fingers press into her hip. “You two were long overdue for a full night’s sleep.” For a moment, she hesitates, unsure if she actually wants to know and not quite ready to give up the content little bubble she and Henry have created. “Go back to sleep,” he says, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Roland’s sleeping in his room, and I’m going to go downstairs and… figure out how to make those butterbeer pancakes I mentioned yesterday.”

Nodding, she bites down on her lip. “How bad is it?”

“What?”

“The curse breaking… I assume that’s why you haven’t slept.”

“Ah…” he murmurs, sighing as he shakes his head. “People are confused.”

“Is that a nice way of saying angry?”

“No, they’re… mostly just really confused by everything,” he insists. “It’s a lot to take in and those memories just… hit them unexpectedly. It’s a lot to process and a lot of people are trying to find family and friends and…” He grins as his fingers knead at her hip. “Granny stayed open all night, and people have been using it as a sort of meeting place.”

“That’s… good,” she says, not quite understanding the feeling that settles in pit of her stomach. “That’s good that Granny can… offer that.”

He nods. “Were you serious about having a town hall meeting today?”

“I… think so,” she replies, blinking a couple of times as she remembers suggesting it in a passing comment that she’d given very little thought to. “I hadn’t quite… decided what to do about all of this, but I guess time is a luxury I don’t really have.”

“Well, I think it’d be a good idea,” Robin tells her in a plain voice, as if giving an opinion on what earrings she might wear. “I think it’d be helpful for people to see you, and be reminded that you broke the curse and wanted this to end… that you’re not the same woman they feared in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago.”

“ _Henry_ broke the curse.”

“Because of ,you,” he says, his fingers pressing into her hip as a grin edges onto his lips. “Regina, you made him believe in love and magic and… he could never have broken that curse if it weren’t for you.” She nods–not pointing out the irony in statement, not pointing out that there wouldn’t have been a curse at all had she not chosen to cast it, not pointing out that their wrath is deserved. “Okay,” he sighs, pulling himself away. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you guys up when breakfast is ready.”

She nods again as he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips, and she smiles as he waits for her to lay back down. Robin pulls the blanket up around her and Henry, and her heart warms as he quickly strokes the back of his fingers over Henry’s cheek before offering her a quick wink before disappearing down the hallway.

Drawing in a long breath, she tries to relax–but no matter what, she can’t shake the growing sense of dread that fills her. Her neck and shoulders suddenly feel tight, and there’s tightening knot at her core as she thinks of all the people she hurt in her quest to get revenge on Snow White.

For months, Robin has insisted the curse was never really that bad, and that because everyone had the basics or the essentials–a place to live, a job that allowed them to pay their rent and buy goods–their lives weren’t as miserable as they could have been. He argued that while people might not have known who they were–not exactly–they had their family and friends, and that even though, every year, when the curse reset itself, they had to start over, most people were able to live fulfilling lives. And maybe, for some, that was true–but it didn’t take away what her intention had been, that she’d  _wanted_ to hurt them–and she of all people knew just how painful and empty it felt to completely lose your sense of self.

After all, that’s what had happened to her.

When she’d been forced to marry the king, it hadn’t mattered to her that she had maids to take care of her or that there was a roof over her. She hadn’t been grateful for any of that–she hadn’t wanted it, and came to resent it as she felt identify slipping further and further away from her. She became someone she didn’t recognize and her life became one she’d never imagined herself living. Her choices stopped being her own, and she’d come to a point where she didn’t even recognize her own motivation. For years, she’d been lost in a fog–trapped and constantly fighting.

She understood what everyone in Storybrooke was feeling–and she doubted it was really confusion. They were angry, and their anger was justified. She’d taken something from them that they could never quite get back. She’d taken their identities and twisted them, and they hadn’t gotten a say. She’d took from them what was taken from her, and for  _years_ , she’d stood back idly and done nothing to help them.

It was painful, almost, to see the way Robin had looked at her when he insisted that Henry was able to break the curse because of her–and while, she could concede that to be true, her intentions weren’t nearly as pure as he made them seem.

Before Henry it never occurred to her that  _she_ could somehow break her own curse–mostly because she didn’t care enough to consider it–and even now, her motives were selfish…

With a sigh, her eyes open and once more she looks to Henry, cuddled into her side and sleeping soundly. She smiles a little as she slowly starts to pull away, careful not to wake him.

The cool air hits her legs and she shivers a little as she readjusts Henry’s blanket before padding into the hall toward her own room. She grabs her robe and ties it around herself and slips her feet into a pair of backless slippers–and as she does, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

For a moment, she just stands there, staring at her reflection and wondering if what Robin said is actually true–wondering if she’s really not the same woman who was so feared in the Enchanted Forest. It was true that the curse had tamed her–year after year of a dull existence had tamped down the anger, and making the choice to give Henry when he was just a baby had humbled her. It had made her realize her inadequacies and it gave her the push she’d needed to reach out for help–and those therapy sessions had helped her to cope with her difficult and painful past, had given her options other than lashing out, had taught her to quell the darkness that lived inside of her–and it had brought her to a place where she could finally accept love back into her life.

Yet, all of that was under the fog of the curse–and now, that fog had been lifted.

Looking away, she pushes herself out of the room and down the stairs, and she smiles gently at the sight of Robin hunched over a cookbook, looking unbelievably confused.

“Am I interrupting?”

Blinking, he looks to her. “Never.”

“I suddenly can’t sleep…”

“I knew I shouldn’t have–”

“No,” she cuts in. “It’s not because of you,” she tells him with a sigh as she joins him on the couch, smiling as his arm folds around her shoulders. “It’s… me.”

“Uh oh, that sounds like a bad break-up line.”

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. “Don’t even go there…”

“Okay, okay,” he says, a chuckle rising up behind his words before he presses a quick kiss to her hair. “How about you tell me why you can’t sleep then… tell me what’s bothering you. I assume it’s something to do with… facing the world again?”

She nods as her eyes fall to his coffee cup baring the logo of Granny’s diner. “You were there,” she murmurs softly. “You were at Granny’s.”

“I was.”

“So, you saw people…”

“I wanted to help, however I could…” He shrugs. “I’m not sure I was much help, but I wanted to try.”

“And on a scale from one to I should expect to be burned at the stake tomorrow, how bad is it?” She hold her breath as she turns her head to look at him. “Be honest.” He nods and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s that bad,” she breathes out as she looks away.

“No, it’s just… they want answers.”

“Answers from me.”

“Yeah, mostly from you…”

“Mostly?”

“Well, there are… different camps of people,” Robin says in a tentative voice. “There are people who are angry and want to hear from you, then there are people who are just sort of lost and confused by the whole thing… and also want to hear from you, and then… there’s… there’s a group that thinks Snow White should be helping in some way.”

“They always loved her…”

“Maybe,” Robin murmurs. “But she’s not there.”

“What?” Regina turns, looking back at him. “What do you mean she’s not there?”

“She and David are… at the hospital.”

“Well, they just found each other again, and… I’d imagine that after laying in a hospital bed for almost thirty years hasn’t exactly been good for David’s muscles.”

Laughing softly, Robin shakes his head. “That’s probably true… and… you’re defending them.”

“Well… to say they should be dealing with the mess I created…”

“…in their names….”

“Regardless, to say they should be dealing with it seems unfair.”

“I agree, but not everyone else does.” Taking a breath, he presses a kiss to her temple. “Regina, not everyone is angry about the curse. There are some people who are just glad it’s over and want to focus on getting their lives back–and I think, no matter how anyone’s feeling, what they want now is leadership.”

“From me?” She asks, arching her eyebrow skeptically. “They never wanted me as their queen. Why would they want me now?”

“Because you’re a good mayor and they know that.”

At that, she scoffs. “Planning a few fun town events doesn’t exactly erase years of terror.”

“And that’s why you need to show them how much you’ve changed–meet them head on and listen to them, answer what you can and show them you can be the leader they need right now.”

“What if I can’t be? What if… I haven’t changed, or haven’t changed enough?” Her breath catches in her throat and she feels her jaw tighten. “What if I walk into that town hall meeting and I lose my temper? What if… my magic becomes uncontrollable or I can’t resist making some snide remark? What if–”

“Regina,” he interjects. “You  _have_ changed. You wouldn’t be so worried about this if you hadn’t.” Blinking at him, she nods. That’s something she hadn’t quite considered before. “Besides, I’ll be there the whole time.”

“I was… sort of hoping you’d stay with Henry. I don’t want to leave him and–”

“Granny has already offered to watch him.”

“What?”

“She said she’d watch him for you… that we can bring him by the diner and she’ll make him a milkshake and some chili-cheese fries, and let him play whatever he wants on the jukebox.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because,” Robin begins in an easy voice, “Like I said, not everyone in this town is against you. You have allies. You have people who are willing to hear your side of things, who haven’t assumed the worst and are willing to give you a second chance.”

“And… Granny is one of them?” Robin nods as a grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “And… you’ll be there to make sure the…I keep it together and don’t do something crazy?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he murmurs as she shifts again and settles back against him. “But there is something I want to ask you.”

“Okay, go ahead…”

“What is butter extract?”

She blinks and then turns, looking at him with narrow eyes. “What?”

“Butter extract,” he repeats. “Every single recipe for these pancakes calls for it, and I have no idea what that means.” He blinks. “And I already told Roland this is what we’re having, so I regular pancakes would just be a complete and utter disappointment.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as she feels a laugh bubbling up from her chest. “It’s just butter flavoring.”

“Why not just use butter then?”

“You could… you’d just need to add  _a lot_  of butter.”

“Oh… well… how much is a lot?”

“Too much,” she tells him with a little laugh. “You can usually substitute it for vanilla extract. I have some in the cupboard.” Settling back against him, she shakes her head and suddenly, her eyes feel heavy. “I’ll help you make them,” she says as a soft yawn escapes her. “I just… need to do something before breakfast.”

“Sleep?”

“Well, yes, but… I had something else in mind.”

“Oh?”

“I need to go see David and Mary Margaret.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” she murmurs back in reply. “This… this is something I need to do on my own.”

_____

Regina stands at the end of the long hallway that leads to David’s room, firmly rooted in her place as she stares forward and into the quiet corridor. The sun’s just barely risen, marking the official start to morning. It peeks through the windows, shining and glistening down on the white tile floors, and making the stark and sterile hospital feel warm and inviting. There’s no one around, the halls are empty–even Nurse Ratched has left her post. Looking around, she assumes that behind the closed doors, patients are still asleep–asleep and completely unaware of the new reality they’ll be waking up to. For a moment, she lets her eyes linger on one of the doors–trying to remember who occupies the rooms and why, and for the life of her, she can’t remember… perhaps the patients represent some of the countless hearts in her vault, she wonders…

Drawing in a long breath, she shakes away the thought, deciding she’ll deal with that particular dilema at a later time. Now, she had to deal with Snow White and Prince Charming–or whatever that meant.

Still, she finds herself rooted in place at the end of the long hallway, wringing her hands together as she contemplates what she’s supposed to say to them. Robin tried to talk her through it and in the car, she’d tried to rehearse it the things they discussed. Yet no matter what. everything she could think to say fell flat, sounding hollow and forced or crass and insincere–and deep down, she knew that no matter what she said, it’d be met with deserved skepticism or even outright rejected… and that sentiment would be deserved.

Taking another breath, this time shorter and more decisive, she takes a tentative step forward, reminding herself that the reception of the apology didn’t actually matter. It was something she had to do, something that would help her to move on. This wasn’t about them, it was about her–they didn’t have to accept her apology, but she did need to offer one.

For so long the two people at the end of the hall had occupied her every thought. She’d been jealous and so filled with hate for them that it clouded her every decisions. For years, she’d wanted them dead–or at least, that’s what she let them think–and she’d set out to destroy their happiness. It’d been a game of cat-and-mouse, and she supposed, something that passed the time–and sadly, something that had given her some sort of twisted purpose.

As queen, she knew Leopold’s subjects would never accept her. She wasn’t the queen they wanted–and they’d long been indifferent toward her. In some ways, that had worked in her favor–she could go unnoticed. But then, slowly but surely, Leopold’s grasp on her tightened. It was so odd to her how he could be so generous and caring toward everyone else, yet so cruel to her–and she’d spent years watching as he groomed his daughter to be queen. It was an odd thing to watch–a girl that was so much like her, so adored and cared for, and her cast aside and ignored. Looking back, she could see that her anger was displaced–she hadn’t hated Snow White, she hated the circumstances she was in. But she couldn’t lash out at a circumstance…

She smiles faintly at the sight of them as she reaches the doorway, but remaining just out of sight.

Mary Margaret is laying in the small hospital bed, her head on David’s chest. His arm his folded around her and his cheek rests atop her head. They’re cuddled up together, looking so comfortable as they sleep–and for a split second, she considers not waking them.

But that would defeat the purpose of being there–and that would be taking the easy way and she’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t do that, not anymore…

Clearing her throat, she holds her breath and waits for them to stir–but the sound goes unnoticed. She does it again, and again, each time louder, but still neither David nor Mary Margaret wakes. With a loud sigh, she feels herself growing impatient as she shifts on her feet, just wanting this moment to be over… to be over so they can all move on.

Rasping her knuckles against the frame of the door, she watches as they stir–first Mary Margaret and then David. Biting down on her bottom lip, her heart starts to beat faster as their eyes flutter–and then, David flunches, gasping as he presses himself back against the pillows and hugs Mary Margaret tighter.

“Stay back,” he calls out, struggling against fear and grogginess. “Don’t take another step.”

“I won’t,” she’s quick to reply, holding up her hands. “I’m not here to make trouble.”

“It’s okay, David,” Mary Margaret says, pressing her palm to his chest as she lifts her head and looks directly at Regina. “She doesn’t have magic here. No one does.”

For some reason, the comment stings–or perhaps, it’s just the tone. But she shrugs it off and tries to smile as a show of goodwill. “Actually, I do, but I’m not going to… use it on you or… anyone… and… that’s beside the point,” she murmurs, grimacing as she fumbles with her words. Taking a breath, she tries again. “I… just wanted to see how the two of you were doing… and…”

“Bedridden and in need of intense physical therapy,” David cuts in in a biting tone. “Thanks to you.”

“Right…” She feels her jaw clench, but again, pushes away the impulse to lash out and say something she’ll only regret later on. “Look, I know that you two have no reason to trust me, but I… I just… I wanted to say that I’m sorry and…” She sighs as her voice trails off, and she shifts uncomfortably. “I tried to ruin your lives because I… I was jealous and miserable and… I realize now that you weren’t to blame for–”

“But you also brought us back together,” Mary Margaret says in a small, barely audible voice. “You’re the reason I found him again. Had you not done that I’d be… out there, searching.”

“Well, my intentions weren’t… completely pure,” Regina says, as a little smile tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “I was hoping that… maybe you two could break the curse.”

“Your curse,” David scoffs, looking skeptically between Regina and Mary Margaret. “You wanted to break your own curse.”

“I did… for my son.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I wanted to give him… a normal life, and… well… that’s not really something that’s possible… or something that was possible here, as things were.”

“ _You_ have child…”

“Henry,” she says with a nod, not ready to say anymore about who her son really to them, not quite ready to share him. “He… changed me.”

“That’s not true,” Mary Margaret says as her eyes meet Regina’s. “You changed before you adopted him.”

“Maybe…”

“No, it’s true. You’re not the same person you were when you cast the curse,” she says, almost breathlessly as she shakes her head. “I  _remember_ now. I  _watched_ you change from… an angry, hateful person to…” a soft smile draws onto her lips, “The sort of person who actually listens to each and every person who speaks at those long, boring town hall meetings you hold and the sort of person hands out snow cones to kids at the Fourth of July Fireworks… and the sort of person bakes cupcakes for a bunch of third graders on the first day of school.” She nods. “Sort of like the person you used to be.”

Regina nods as she feels a lump rising in her throat. “Well, regardless, I just… I wanted you to know that I  _am_ sorry for what I did to you… and all the things I tried to do to you.” Swallowing hard, she reaches into her pocket, slowly pulling out an envelope. She holds it up so that David’s skeptical eyes can see that it’s harmless and takes a few tentative steps forward. “I know that there isn’t anything I can do to make it up to you, but…” She sighs as she holds the envelope out to Mary Margaret. “I hope this can help.”

“What… is it?”

She feels a soft grin edge onto her lips–unforced and genuine. “Inside that envelope, you’ll find the contact information–a phone number and the home address–for your daughter. Her name is Emma Swan and she lives in Boston. And, I know that it’s not the same as having raised her, but there are a few pictures inside of her over the years and…” She shrugs as Mary Margaret takes the envelope. “I hope it’ll… help in someway.”

For a moment, she just stands there, watching as Mary Margaret and David stare at the envelope. Both of them seem speechless and even a little stunned, and both are completely overwhelmed. She can only imagine that once their memories returned, once they’d had their little reunion with each other, that one of the first questions they had was about their long lost daughter. Her chest tightens a little thinking of it, thinking of the absolute terror she’d felt the day before when it seemed that Henry might be lost to her forever, and she can’t fathom years of it or waking one morning to realize she’d missed out on his entire life.

“I should go,” she murmurs quietly, suddenly feeling even more out of place as Mary Margaret slips her finger beneath the envelopes seal. “I have a town hall meeting this afternoon that I’m sure will be… quite lively.” At that, she nods and turns away.

“Regina,” David’s voice calls just as she reaches the threshold, forcing her to turn back into the room. “Thank you for this,” he tells her in a soft, sincere voice as he holds up one of the pictures of Emma. “I mean it… thank you.”

She nods again as her breath hitches in her throat, and she feels something indescribable stirring at her core. She offers them both a slight smile that neither of them see before continue down the long corridor as her thoughts once more shift.

____

As soon as she steps into the house, she can smell the butterscotch–and a soft smile edges onto her lips as she thinks of Robin and the butterbeer pancakes he was so determined to make for the boys. She kicks off her shoes and takes off her suit coat, rolling her neck and shoulders as she pads toward the kitchen. Her stomach is still in knots, but it helps to be home–home and near Robin and the boys, home and doing something completely normal, like making breakfast. Though her meeting with Charmings was quick and felt a little forced and awkward, it went better than expected–and she she hoped that would set the precedent for the rest of the day.

On the way home, she’d replayed it over and over again in her head, considering and over-analyzing every detail of the interaction. She thought about the tentative way Mary Margaret had spoke to her–not angry or accusing, but also not condoning–and she thought about David’s sincere  _thank you_  at the end. She thought about all of the things she didn’t say–things she wanted to say and maybe should have said–and even then, after all was said and done, she couldn’t quite find the words.

It was frustrating, in a lot of ways, to feel so unsure–to grapple with absolutely every decision and to struggle with absolutely every word, to feel as though everyone were watching and waiting for an opportunity to find fault and attack. She wasn’t used to this. Never as Queen had she cared much about what anyone thought and as mayor, it hadn’t mattered because no one would remember any of it anyway.

But now, everything she did and said carried a particular degree of weight, there were consequences now–and in just a few short hours, she’d have to find the right words and say them to a crowd of more than two…

Henry’s laugh rings out and she can’t help but smile as she hears Robin reply in a teasing voice. She can’t make out whatever it is that they’re talking about it, but it sounds light-hearted and happy and so, so normal, the sort thing she’d hear on any given morning–and she finds herself clinging to it as she wonders if, just for a little while, she can manage to shift her attention to Robin and the boys and ignore the rest of the world, if only for her own sanity.

A warm smile edges onto her lips as she steps into the kitchen and spots Roland, leaning across the counter on one of the stools as he watches Henry and Robin making the butterscotch batter. His hair is messy and he’s wearing a pair of  Superman footed pajamas–and looking decidedly concerned. Peering around the corner, she watches as Robin helps Henry to measure out some flour, carefully ensuring that it’s leveled before dropping it into a glass mixing bowl–and then, he hands Henry the measuring cup to do it again on his own.

“Do you want to help?” She asks as she comes up behind Roland, rubbing her hand over his back as Robin looks up and grins. “You can if you want to.”

“I sneezed in the first batch of whipped cream… twice,” he confesses as he turns to look up at her, offering her a guilty little lopsided grin. “They had to remake it… twice.”

“Are you feeling okay?” She asks as her hands move to his cheeks, pressing her fingers against them to check for warmth. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

Roland’s cheeks flush and he shakes his head, looking away bashfully. “No, no, nothing like that,” Robin tells her as a chuckle rises into his voice. “He sneezed because he tried to smell the powdered sugar and breathed in a little too much… and then, he did it  _again_.” At that, Henry giggles and Roland’s cheeks deepen to another shade of red. “So, he’s done helping for now.”

“But the third batch tasted the best,” Henry tells them as he uses his finger to level off the measuring cup. “So, it wasn’t  _all_ bad.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“And I got the lick the spoon the second time…and the third,” Roland tells her. “It  _was_ best the third time.”

“Where were you?” Henry asks, as drops in the second cup of flour, looking up as his eyes meet hers. “It’s so early.” His lip catches between his teeth. “I was worried that… that something… might have happened.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, offering an apologetic grin. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” Henry says. “Robin was here. He said you just had to run an errand.” Henry blinks up and Robin and his brow creases. “At six-thirty in the morning.”

Scooping up Roland, Regina pulls him into her lap as she settles onto the stool he’d been standing on and watches as Robin hands Henry a container of ricotta cheese to be measured, pointing at a specific mark on the measuring cup. “I… wanted to go and see Ms. Blanchard,” she begins in a tentative voice. “There was something I needed to talk to her about.”

“Oh,” Henry murmurs as he pulls off the lid. “Is she still at the hospital visiting her friend?”

“She is…”

“Is he better?”

“He is,” Regina says with a nod. “He’s practically back to his old self.” Her eyes shift to Robin as his brow arches curiously. “It was a… nice enough visit.”

“That’s good,” Henry says easily as he carefully pours some cream into the bowl and takes the whisk that Robin hands him as his brow arches in her direction. “And I’m glad that her friend is doing better.”

“Me too,” Regina says as her fingers push through Roland’s messy curls as the knot in her stomach begins to tighten. “But I don’t want to talk about that now,” she says decidedly, leaning in to press a kiss to his hair and grinning as he tips his head back so that her lips brush over his forehead. “I’d much rather make the butter syrup for those pancakes you two are working on.” Her eyes shift to Robin and she laughs a little. “And if Roland promises not to sniff any of the ingredients, can he help?”

“I suppose so,” Robin says, eyeing his son. “But if you  _have_ to sneeze…”

“I know, I know,” Roland mumbles. “Look away and sneeze into my elbow.”

Regina laughs as slides off of the stool and sets Roland back down on top of it. She gathers together the ingredients that Robin set aside for the syrup, making a quick quip about the butter extract and how he’d left it for her to use. He only rolls his eyes as she laughs and grabs a bowl from the cabinet, but as she turns, Robin catches her arm.

“Did things really go alright?” He asks in a low and barely audible voice. “Are  _you_ really alright?”

“It was fine,” she tells him as she leans up onto her toes to peck his lips. “We’ll talk about it after breakfast.” Robin nods and his hand rubs gently over her arm before turning back to Henry and the butterscotch batter. She lifts Roland onto the counter and lays out the ingredients, smiling as he carefully examines each of them and his brow furrows at the butter extract–and thoughts of the Charmings and the looming town hall meeting drift away…

Despite a few hiccups with the food processor, the rest of the breakfast preparations go smoothly–and breakfast itself is filled with light-hearted laughter, and even a little bit of magic that had made the boys eyes go wide.

Magic felt different in this way–lighter and safer–and she liked that it could make Henry and Roland smile.

After breakfast, the boys settled in the living room with a video game–and she and Robin returned to the kitchen to clean up the butterscotch-y mess.

For awhile, they didn’t say much, focusing instead on the washing out bowls and dishes, wiping down countertops and cleaning Roland’s fingerprints off the refrigerator door. When she reaches for the last of the plates, she feels her shoulders tensing and her stomach starts to churn, not quite ready for the little bubble of breakfast with her family to burst.

“You’ve been washing the plate for ten minutes,” Robin murmurs as he comes up behind her, his fingers pressing into the small of her back. “Even if it was Roland’s, I think it’s clean now.”

“The whole thing was covered in syrup,” she says, grinning as she looks back at him from over her shoulder.

“As were his hands…”

“The pancakes seemed to be a hit though…”

“Mm, well, I’d expect nothing less from a recipe that included both copious amounts of sugar  _and_ Harry Potter,” he says, as his fingers press a little more firmly at the small of her back. “It’s after breakfast now,” he tells her. “So, tell me, how did things  _really_ go at the hospital with…” He stops as she turns to him, and his head tips to the side. “Do we call her Mary Margaret still? Or is it Snow White again.”

Involuntarily, her eyes roll. “I’m sticking with Mary Margaret, for now,” she says as she turns off the water. “I never could stand her real name.”

“Is is rather…”

“Stupid?”

“Well…”

She sighs and shakes her head. “It was fine, though,” she tells him, as she turns herself and leans back against the edge of the sink. “I think David thought I’d set him on fire at any moment, but… I apologized and gave them Emma’s contact information and some pictures, and…” She shrugs, “Then I left.”

“Short and sweet…”

“And uncomfortable.”

“Well…”

She sighs, “It was better than I thought it’d be.” A little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “I… said that Henry changed me and Mary Margaret disagreed… she said that now that she has her memories, she can say that it started before Henry and…”

“She’s right.”

“Is she?”

“Regina,” Robin cuts as she draws in a breath. “You haven’t been the Evil Queen for a very long time. Storybrooke gave you a fresh start and you… took advantage of that. You worked through some things and you did your best to make amends where you could, to be better this time around.” Her lip catches between her teeth as her eyes shift to meet his. “This whole town watched it happen.”

“This whole town also watched me terrorize…”

“So, they’ve seen both sides,” he interjects, not letting her finish the thought. “There are people on your side. Rely on them.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“I am,” he tells her easily. “And unlike you, I’ve actually spoken to a few of them since the curse breaks.”

She sighs in concession and nods. “I’m still surprised I didn’t run into anyone when I went to the hospital.”

“Are you sure you didn’t magic yourself there or… find an invisibility cloak or…”

She laughs a little and shakes her head. “No… I’m… trying not to do that.”

“Not to use magic?” He asks as his brow creases. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s… kind of addicting and…” She sighs and shakes her head, remembering how it had slowly but surely consumed her. “And I don’t always like the person it makes me.”

“Magic doesn’t  _make_ you the person you are, Regina. It’s just… a part of who you are.” She looks away, shaking her head, thinking back to those early years of the curse and what a struggle it had been not to have magic. She remembers how her fingers would curl as she’d sneer at someone when she didn’t get her way or something proved to be especially difficult, remembering the way she’d daydream about launching a fireball toward them or reaching into their chest and forcing things go her way. “Not all magic is dark.”

“Mine is.”

“I don’t agree.”

Blinking, she looks up at him. “I have a collection of hearts from people that…”

“You magic  _can_ be dark,” Robin cuts in, shaking his head. “That doesn’t mean it always is.” Shaking her head, she tries to look away, but he tips her chin back and smiles. “Yesterday, your magic wasn’t dark. Yesterday, when you saved your son, you weren’t using dark magic. That came from a place of love, Regina. Not hate.”

“I don’t know. I certainly was feeling a lot of hate for some of the people in that room.”

Robin nods. “But was that hate stronger than the love you felt for Henry?”

“No,” she says easily as a soft grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. “You certainly seem to know a lot about the difference between dark and light magic.”

“I’ve… done a bit of reading here and there.”

“Stolen library books?”

“Borrowed.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughs and shakes her head, then takes a step in. He pulls her into a hug as she draws in a breath. Her head rests on his shoulder and he rubs his hand over her back, and she finds herself wondering how she’d have gotten through the last weeks without his support.

“Okay,” he murmurs as he takes a half step back. “Let’s go relax for a little bit and… maybe figure out what it is you’re going to say this afternoon?” She nods as his fingers fold down around hers, tugging her gently toward the living room–as thinks she’s glad she’ll never have to know what going through this without him would have been like.

_____

Regina’s breath catches in her chest as they step into the diner, and Robin and the boys walk to the counter. She stands there, watching as Henry and Roland climb up onto stools at the counter, and Robin leans against it as Granny comes out from the kitchen.

The diner isn’t crowded–especially considering that it’s lunchtime–but the few patrons have all stopped eating. Instead, they’re all staring at her–as though waiting for something to happen. She tries to smile as a gesture of goodwill or perhaps a little reassurance, but she can’t muster it–instead, all she can do is focus on their wide, fearful eyes. She looks at each of them and it’s not until her eyes fall to a boy in Henry’s class that she recognizes one of the faces. Her heart clenches when his hands start to tremble, and she finds herself wondering what she did to him…

“You might be a queen,” Granny calls out, snapping her back into the present moment and turning her attention away from the boy. “But I call the shots around here, and I’m not paying to keep the sidewalk cool. So, it’s in or out, no lingering in the doorway.”

“Oh,” she murmurs as she takes a step into the diner and lets the door close behind her. “Uh, sorry about that.”

Granny offers her a quick wink as she makes her way to the counter, doing her best to ignore the other patrons eyes following her as she goes. After what seems like an eternity rather than just a few feet, she reaches the counter and Robin’s arm slides around her as Granny grabs two menus and drops them down in front of the boys.

“I know I said milkshakes and chili-cheese fries,” Granny begins. “But I was thinking you two should pick out some burgers or sandwiches to go with that.” A grin pulls onto Regina’s lips as Henry and Roland exchange smiles. “And for you,” she says, turning her attention to Regina. “I’ve got something for you–on the house.” Before Regina can even ask, Granny pulls a large styrofoam coffee cup from beneath the counter. “A little liquid courage for your town hall meeting.”

“Thank you,” she returns sincerely as she wraps her fingers around the warm cup. “But I have a feeling I’ll need something stronger than coffee for this one.”

A smirk edges onto Granny’s lips. “Who says that’s just coffee?”

Regina’s eyes widen a little and she takes a sip–and immediately tastes the whiskey.

“Nothing for me?” Robin asks, chuckling softly as he looks to Granny. “I’ve got a town hall meeting, too.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Help yourself,” she tells him. “You usually do anyway.” At that, Regina chuckles around Robin shrugs and rounds the counter, helping himself to a cup of coffee and some flavored creamer as Granny turns her attention to the boys. Regina watches as she carefully takes down their orders–and when she reaches into her purse to try to pay for the food and coffees, Granny shakes her head. “It’s on the house,” she tells her, offering a quick wink before disapearing back into the kitchen to start on the boys’ orders.

“Come on,” Robin murmurs softly as he comes back to the other side of the counter and takes her hand, “We should be going.”

“Yeah,” she says reluctantly. “I guess we should.” Leaning in she presses a kiss to Henry’s cheek, the another to the top of Roland’s head as Robin reminds them to behave–and Granny  _tsks_ loudly and rolls her eyes, as if two little boys could never misbehave.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Robin says, as he holds the door open for her and they step out onto the sidewalk. “Granny was… Granny.”

“Yeah,” Regina says with a nod, looking back over her shoulder at the wide-eyed boy sitting with his mother, still watching her with terrified eyes. “But did you see everyone else? Did you see that little boy?” Robin’s gaze follows her and she sighs. “He looked absolutely petrified.”

“He probably only knows you from stories he’s heard.”

“Or…”

“Regina, don’t do that,” Robin says as he turns her away from the window. “Don’t beat yourself up over things that may or may not have happened three decades ago.” She nods and takes another sip of the coffee, breathing it in and holding it in her mouth as they make their way toward City Hall.

With each step her stomach tightens, and little by little, she feels her resolve dwindling. Her hand tightens around Robin’s as they reach the front entrance, and just like she was the hospital earlier that morning, she feels rooted in place.

Turning to her, he takes a breath and with his free hand, he cups her cheek. “You can do this.”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” she says, as her eyes meet his. “The whole way here, I’ve been thinking about that offer you made… the one about leaving Storybrooke if the curse didn’t break, and starting over again somewhere else, just me and you and Henry and Roland…I keep thinking about that.”

“Ah,” he murmurs softly. “If I recall, I suggested that a few times, and each time, you were adamantly opposed to it.”

“I’m known for my poor decision making.”

A little grin edges up onto his lips. “You made the right call, Regina.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

With a sigh, he pushes his hand into her hair and draws her closer, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “The sooner we go in there, the sooner this will all be over.”

“Over sounds nice.”

“Come on,” he says, as he pulls back, giving her hand a gentle tug. “Let’s go.”

Reluctantly, she follows him in–and her mouth goes dry as she hears the loud buzz of voices coming from the meeting room. Just by the sounds of it, it’s a full house–a full house of people waiting for answers she only hopes that she can provide and a full house of people waiting to lash out at her. She feels a warm tingling at her fingertips, and she takes a breath, doing her best to ignore it.

Drawing in a long breath, she pushes against the door and swallows hard as she steps into the room, once more thinking of the boy in the diner, looking at her as if he were looking at some kind of horrifying monster. Looking around, she notices a few faces–people she’s seen everyday for the past few decades, people who delivered her mail and rang up her groceries, neighbors and city workers, and people she’d just merely crossed paths with. Each of them, though, have the same hard-eyes and tight jaws, no longer offering a courteous grin or nod to their mayor.

“Regina!” Graham’s voice calls as he steps out of the crows. “What the hell!?” He takes a few long strides and  aimless strides toward her, eyeing her as he near, and once more, she swallows hard, thinking back to all the terrible things she did to him–especially before the curse, things he now has a memory of. Again, she feels that familiar tingling in her fingers and she balls her hands into fists in an effort to stop it–and in an effort to stop herself.

Her eyebrows arch as Robin steps forward, putting a physical barrier between her and Graham. Graham only scoffs as shakes his head, and she sighs at the smell of rum–his favorite coping mechanism. “What is this?” He asks, looking past Robin and directly at her. “You brought a bodyguard?”

“Does she need one?”  
  


“Robin, it’s… it’s okay… he’s just…”

“Entitled to be angry,” Robin cuts in, looking directly at Graham, “But not entitled to drunkenly berate her in front of a room full of people.”

“What do you know about it?” Graham demands, shifting his attention to Robin. “She’s entitled to nothing, not after what she–”

“I want to hear from her,” an unfamiliar and faceless voice pipes up from the crowd, causing everyone’s attention to shift, and giving her the opportunity to slip away from Graham.

Nervously, she makes her way to the front of the room and her jaw tightens as a lump rises into the back of her throat, and she has to remind herself not let her emotions–or her magic–get the best of her. For a moment, she just stands there, letting her eyes linger over everyone before they finally come to rest on Robin, who gives her an encouraging little wink and a nod.

“I know that a lot of you are… confused and angry, and probably have a thousand questions that you want me to answer,” she begins as she leans back against the edge of the table where the town council usually sits at these sorts of meetings. “And, I promise you, I’ll try to answer them, but…”

“Can we go back?” Someone calls out. “Can we go back  _home_?”

Catching her lip between her teeth, and shakes her head. “I… I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Someone else yells out, as a loud murmur overtakes the room. “You brought us here! You should be able to take us back!”

“It’s not that…”

“We didn’t  _choose_ this place.  _You_ did. Why should we be stuck here?”

“You owe it to us to–”

“I can’t do the impossible,” she said, elevating her voice over the crowd. “But I can help you all to make the best of the life you have here.”

“Good, I don’t want to go back,” Ruby says, loud enough for everyone around her to hear it. “I like Storybrooke… and electricity and aspirin and…” She grins, “Not having to chase down my food.”

Another murmur goes through the crowd, and a appreciative grin edges onto Regina’s lips as she makes eye-contact with Ruby.

Clearing her throat, she pushes away from the table and does her best to ignore the tightening knot at her core. “Listen, I know that you have questions, but before I try to answer them, there’s something I need you all to hear.” Taking a breath, she waits for the room to quiet and when it does, she again finds herself looking to Robin, who once more offers her an encouraging nod. “I need you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you all got caught in the crossfire. For most of you, this wasn’t personal. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t get hurt–and for that, I’m sorry. I was…” She sighs and shakes her head, closing her eyes momentarily as she thinks back to the night she cast the curse and how desperate and alone she felt, how she just wanted to start over. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I was thinking or feeling back then–and I’m sure you can all fill in the blanks with whatever colorful adjectives and expletives you choose–” At that, a little chuckle vibrates through the crowd, and she feels a little grin tug up at the corner of her mouth and the knot in her stomach loosens. “What does matter is that… I’m not that person anymore, and even though I can’t undo the curse and I can’t take you home, I can try to help you build a new life here.”

She nods as she looks around the room, and she can’t help but notice that people–even the angry man who challenged her a moment before about returning to the Enchanted Forest–seem to be listening. “It won’t be easy, and we’re all going to have to make adjustments, but we can muddle through it together.” A soft smile forms on her lips as her eyes settle on Robin at the back of the crowd. “If there’s one thing this curse has taught me, it’s that it’s a lot easier to get through the really difficult times if you have someone helping you, if you have someone you can rely on, someone who’s in your corner…” Taking a breath, she looks back at the crowd. “Let me be that person for you. Let me help you. Let me make it up to you.”

“And why should we trust you?” Calls a voice she only faintly recognizes as one of the dwarves. “Of all people, why do you deserve our trust?”

Her lips part to respond, but before she can, another voice replies. “Because you and I both know that she’s changed. We all watched it happen, slowly but surely, little by little.” Mary Margaret says as she steps into the town hall meeting room. “She’s not the Evil Queen anymore and she hasn’t been for a very long time.”

Once again, Regina feels a lump rising into her throat and this time, she feels warm tears brimming in her eyes as she stares at Mary Margaret for a moment–and then, taking a breath, she looks back to the crowd.

“You said you had questions,” she begins, this time feeling calmer. “So, let’s have them…”

_____

The town hall meeting finally ended just after six–and by the time they got to Granny’s to pick up the boys, she was completely exhausted. The plan had been to pick some take out from Granny’s and eat it while they all watched a movie and relaxed–but the boys had other plans, and she could hardly say no their big smiles and wide, hopeful eyes… or request of fajitas and rice.

Chuckling softly at her lack of resolve against the boys, Robin ordered them pieces of flan for dessert. Regina gathered the boys’ things and thanked Granny, who nodded and winked, and told her the boys had been a pleasure. It seemed like she wanted to say more–likely to ask how the town hall meeting had gone–but she didn’t, and then they were on their way.

It was an easy enough meal to prepare–and one that Roland smothered in too much cheese and sour cream. After dinner, Robin plated the slices of flan and sent the boys into the living room to choose a movie, and it took her only a couple of minutes to accept that using magic to clean a messy kitchen was innocent enough–and would allow her to finally sit down.

Henry and Roland chose  _Homeward Bound_ , and after everyone’s desserts were finished, they climbed up on the couch between Robin and Regina. Roland laid across Robin’s lap and Henry cuddled into her side–and as they watched the movie, she couldn’t help but realize, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she wasn’t worried about anything. There weren’t any secrets looming over her or an impending sense of dread washing over her whenever she wasn’t distracted. She was calm and at peace with herself–she was simply there, present within a moment, enjoying time with her family–and it was such a relief.

“I think they’re asleep,” Henry whispers as he looks up at her.

A grin tugs onto her lips as she looks to Robin and Roland on the opposite end of the couch. Robin’s head had fallen back against the couch cushion with his mouth open and his arms loosely folded around Roland–who’s leaning back against him in an adorably similar position. “Yeah,” she murmurs as a chuckle rises into her voice. “It appears so.” Leaning in, she presses a kiss to the top of Henry’s head. “We should get you up to bed.”

“Do I have school in the morning?”

“No…”

“Oh,” Henry murmurs with a frown. “I was kind of hoping we did.”

“I… think people need some time to adjust before they just jump back into the lives.”

“That makes sense,” Henry says with an easy nod. “But I miss my friends and we were in the middle of a really good book that Ms. Blanchard was reading to us. It was a murder mystery… kind of. I’m not sure anyone actually died, but all the characters  _think_ someone died.” He grins. “It’s kinda cool, but really confusing.”

“Ah… well maybe we could pick up a copy and you could finish it here?”

He nods agreeably at the idea. “I don’t miss math though,” she tells her, dropping his voice a little lower as he glances to Robin. “But don’t tell Robin that.” Henry looks back to Regina and offers a lopsided little smile. “I think it might hurt his feelings.”

Laughing softly, she shakes her head–and for a moment, she just stares at Henry and his sheepish little grin and bright eyes. “I really love you, you know that, right?”

“I love you, too,” he tells her as his smile brightens.

“I spent my whole day today talking about all the bad choices I’ve made in my life, and I just thinking about how glad I was that when it came to you, I finally got something right. That  _you_ got to be the  _one thing_  I seem to have gotten right.” Again, she leans in and presses a kiss to his hair, breathing in the soft smell of his shampoo. “So, what do you say to two chapters tonight?”

Henry grins. “I say yes!”

“Okay, let’s go up and…” She looks to Robin and Roland sleeping soundly beside them. “Once we get you to bed, I’ll come back for them.”

Henry nods as he rolls away from her and as they start toward the stairs, he reaches for her hand. Her breath catches in her chest as Henry leads her up the stairs. He changes into his pajamas quickly and brushes his teeth, and then he and Regina crawl into his bed. She lays on her side and he lays against the pillows and she reads until his eyes are heavy.

“Mom,” he murmurs softly as she slides the bookmark into the page. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you still mayor?”

She blinks a couple of times as he looks up at her, and then a grin edges onto her lips as she nods. “I am.”

“Good,” he says decisively. “I’m glad. You’re a good mayor.”

“I’m glad, too,” she murmurs in sincere voice as she slides off the bed and leans in to kiss his cheek. “Good night, Henry.”

“G’night, mom,” he mumbles back as his eyes close–and before she she even reaches the door, he’s asleep.

She goes downstairs and carefully scoops up Roland, carrying him up to his room and tucking him in. For a moment, she lingers there–watching as he sleeps and thinking of the promises she’s made about redecorating the room for him, and though she knows it could easily be done with a wave of her hand, she wants to see the excitement on his face as they go through the department store and pick things out. She imagines it’ll end up looking a lot like Henry’s room–just perhaps with more Superman than Captain America.

Grinning, she flicks on the nightlight and closes the door, and she considers the possibility of taking the boys shopping the following afternoon. Henry could use a few new things–and though socks and underwear are hardly as exciting as superhero bedsheets and posters, she thinks it’ll make for a nice afternoon.

She makes her way back to the living room and picks up the plates from the coffee table, quickly taking them to the kitchen and putting them in the dishwasher. She takes her time making sure all the doors are locked and all of the lights are turned off, and as she makes her way back to Robin, she can’t help but think of how good it feels to be this comfortable and this at ease in her own skin.

For a moment, she hesitates, not wanting to wake him–and she considers just grabbing a blanket and cuddling up against him. But she knows that if she does that, they’ll both wake up in the middle of the night with sore necks and shoulders, and they’ll both have a miserable morning.

Taking a breath she sits down on the edge of the couch and places her hand on his thigh, pressing gently in an effort to wake him–but it goes unnoticed. She whispers his name a few times, each time in a louder voice, but still he doesn’t wake up, and for some reason it makes her laugh. She slides closer and leans in a little, pressing her hand gently to his chest, and again, she says his name. His eyelids flutter and he shifts slightly, and a grin tugs onto her lips–and for an all too brief moment, she feels a bit overwhelmed by how much she loves him.

For months, he’s been a constant source of comfort for her. He’s been there whenever she needed someone, even when she wouldn’t voice that need, and he’s never asked for anything in return. He was simply there, because he wanted to be, because he loved her–and she’s never quiet had that. With Daniel, they’d been so young and their relationship never really got the chance to start–and then, after him, for so long, there’d been no one. She’d gotten used to being alone and somehow convinced herself that she preferred it that way. But it’s been nice to have someone to lean on and rely on, someone she could talk to and confide in without worrying that she’d be judge or lectured–and just like with Henry, she can’t help but think that maybe everything else needed to happen in order for  _this_ to happen. And if that was the case, it was all worth it. They were worth it.

“Mm, did I fall asleep?” He murmurs as his eyes open. “I just meant to rest my eyes.”

“You did. So did Roland.”

Robin yawns and rolls his shoulders–and then his eyes widen a little. “Did all of the animals survive? I was pretty sure that Chance and Sassy would, but… I was worried about Shadow.”

She blinks as she processes his question, and then she starts to nod. “Yes, they did–even Shadow.”

“Good…”

She laughs a little as her fingers strum absently over his chest. “We should get to bed.”

“We should,” he agrees in a groggy voice. “I need to go into the store and… make sure John didn’t flirt away half of my inventory.”

“I need to go into my office tomorrow, too. I… don’t actually remember the last time I was there. I’m sure my desk is a nightmare.”

He grins a little. “I’ll take the boys to the shop with me.”

“Okay,” she agrees easily. “We should meet for lunch at Granny’s, and then I want to take the boys shopping. Henry needs some things and I’ve been promising Roland we’d decorate his room, so I figure tomorrow would be a good day for that and…” She takes a breath. “I really want to focus on doing something  _normal_.”

“Normal is good…”

“It is…”

Pushing himself forward, he takes her hand and tugs her up from the couch. “Just try to make sure they’re back by six,” he tells her. “They have plans.”

“They do?” She asks, as her brow arches. “Our  _children_ have plans.”

“Yes,” he says easily.

“Plans that… include us?”

“No…”

She watches as he struggles against the urge to smile. “Do I get to know about these plans?”

“Their plans?” He asks, almost rhetorically as they reach the top of the stairs and she nods. “John is going to take them out for pizza and then watching The Chronicles of Narnia and… having a little sleep over.” He grins. “He borrowed some camping equipment–tents and the like. I think he’s more excited about it than they’re going to be.”

“So, they don’t know about these plans…”

“Not yet.”

“And, what will we be doing while our children are otherwise occupied?”

“Ah,” he breathes out as they step into the bedroom. “That’s the part I can’t share.”

“No?”

“No,” he says as he closes the door. “That part is very confidential.”

“Do the boys knows?”

“And risk you bribing them with candy and baked goods?” He asks, shaking his head as a sly little grin edges onto his lips. “I don’t think so.”

Her heart starts to flutter as she stares at him, and though she wants to be annoyed with his coyness, it makes her smile. “So, you’re not going to tell me?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow night,” he says easily as he steps around her and opens a drawer, pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms. She watches him change and then climb into bed and he only grins at her as he pats the empty space beside himself. “Come on, you’ve gotta be exhausted.”

“I am,” she murmurs. “But I also want to know what you’re up to.”

“Oh, I’m going to bed…”

Rolling her eyes, she reaches for her own pajamas, quickly changing into them before joining him in bed. She turns off the light and rolls onto her side–and again, she feels her heart flutter when he reaches for her.

“Just a hint…”

“Regina…”

“Come on…”

He chuckles softly and pulls her closer. “I… think you know what’s going to happen tomorrow night,” he whispers softly as her head settles on his shoulder. “But I do want some elements of it to be a surprise.”

She feels tears welling in her eyes and she nods and cuddles a little closer, glad for the confirmation and glad to wait for the surprise, but most of all glad to be able look forward to their future together–a second chance at life and happiness, not only for herself, but for all of them. And a second chance she can’t help but think was meant to be.


End file.
